Final Fantasy 8: Future Bound
by Darsar
Summary: The continuation of the events of Final Fantasy 8, shortly after the conclusion of the game.
1. Chapter 1: Across Generations

"_Right and wrong are not what separate us and our enemies. It's our different standpoints, our perspectives that separate us."_

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Across Generations**_

(Squall)

(It's useless. I'll never get back to sleep.)

Squall opened his eyes and watched for a few minutes, as the gray fingers of dawn stole away the darkness of his dormitory room. It was very early in the morning, but morning nonetheless. Even if he fell asleep in that instant, he would earn himself no more than an hour or two of sleep before the other students of Balamb Garden rose for the day. Before he too would be expected to rise and fulfill his duties as a member of SeeD. That brief amount of time wouldn't amount to anything. Besides, he felt rested enough already and saw no need to waste more time in bed.

He pulled aside his half of the bed sheets, careful not to wake Rinoa. His bed was only built wide enough to accommodate a single student at a time, forcing Squall and Rinoa to huddle together to keep from falling to the floor. Pressed between the wall and Rinoa, Squall had only inches to spare as he worked himself upright.

He had tried to get Rinoa to sleep in one of the spare dormitories reserved for visitors and new cadets, but Rinoa refused outright. Now struggling to work his way to the foot of the bed and then to the floor, Squall wished he'd been more determined to hold his side of the argument. It was inconvenient, awkward, and unnecessary for them to bunk together. Not to mention against protocol for a members of SeeD to keep a girl—or anyone at all—in their dorms overnight. Even if it wasn't against the rules, sleeping with a girl had certain social consequences as well.

(Not that Rinoa cares about that. She loves giving people the wrong impression.)

Squall's feet reached the floor and he stood up. The bed shook, but not enough to wake Rinoa. One of her arms slid off the edge of the bed and hung limp in the air, her fingers extended as if she was reaching for something. In the dim light, Squall could see the outlines and curves of her face. For most people, sleep pulled down on their faces, slackening their jaws and leaving them in a permanent expression of dimwitted amazement. For Rinoa, her features seemed to pull upwards instead, lifting her eyebrows and the corners of her lips into the beginning of a smile.

(She's pretty when she sleeps.)

(… She's pretty when she does anything.)

The spirit of efficiency had made Squall accustomed to sleeping while mostly dressed. It was simply more convenient than changing back and forth into night clothes. As he stepped away from the bed, he already had his pants and a white undershirt on. He slid on his boots and buckled them. His fur-lined jacket hung from a coat hanger on the wall above his bed, alongside his SeeD dress uniform, but to reach it would require him to lean over Rinoa, possibly disturbing her. He left it where it was. The weather was warm anyway, too warm to bother with a jacket.

He pulled open his dorm room door. Once more, he looked back to Rinoa.

(She'll be mad if I'm not here when she wakes up.)

He'd been working hard in the past few days and weeks to grow more sensitive to other people's feelings. So he was aware that it was probably rude for him to sneak off, leaving Rinoa alone in the bed.

But fundamentally, he was Squall. Though he'd changed in the past few weeks since he met Rinoa, there were certain parts of him that formed the core of his identity. He was still an introvert who enjoyed having quiet time by himself to process his thoughts. Sometimes being alone was a need of his, as basic as eating and sleeping. It allowed him to release his stress and ready his mind to accept new thoughts and ideas. Being alone made him more willing to spend time with others. Rinoa might not like it if he left in the night, but she'd be even more upset if he acted moody or uncomfortable when she was awake.

(… Guess I'll have to be back before she wakes up then.)

He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. He listened for a moment to hear if Rinoa woke up. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door.

With his left hand, Squall worked out a kink in his opposite shoulder as he headed down the dormitory hallway towards the central hub of Garden. His dorm room was in a wing reserved for graduated SeeD members. Full SeeDs were allowed to decorate their dorms however they wanted, so long as the decorations weren't permanent or in violation of other Garden rules. Squall chose not to exercise this right, making his door the only one in the hall that was blank. He passed by several dozen doors adorned with colored flyers, banners, streamers, hand-drawn pictures, photographs, and paper cut-out letters spelling the occupant's name.

Several days ago, Selphie and Zell had decided to compete with each other to make the most outrageous door decorations. This resulted in an escalating arms race of absurdity that ended with Selphie plastering her door with fifty greeting cards she'd bought in Balamb. They were the singing kind that played music every time they were opened. Zell countered this by hanging a one hundred and fifty pound punching bag from his door. The contest ended there, as both of them were forced to remove their decorations: Selphie because hers kept people awake at night when the cards would be blown open by a breeze, chiming into the darkness, and Zell because his punching bag blocked the hallway and was cracking the doorframe.

Zell settled for hanging a small speed bag from the top of his door, along with pages ripped from _Weapons Monthly_ and _Combat King_ magazines. Selphie's door had a life-sized photo of herself that had been signed by almost everyone in Garden. Even Squall, after some convincing, had signed his name on photo-Selphie's left boot.

Of all the decorations in the SeeD wing, Quistis' was the only one that Squall could tolerate. Her door bore only a simple bronze plaque with her full name professionally etched into it, making her doorway look like the entrance to an office for a doctor or a lawyer.

Aside from the decorations, the hallways were empty. For a while, Squall had been concerned that, after the Garden Staff fled with NORG, there would be a complete breakdown in discipline. Without authority figures looming over every shoulder and around every corner, a compound full of children and teenagers was liable to explode with the sudden, unfamiliar freedom. And yet nothing of the sort had occurred. So far, anyway.

Discipline had relaxed, but instead of taking the opportunity to go crazy, most students had chosen to relax. Rather than partying through the night, they slept in late. Without morning classes to attend or pending missions to perform, there really wasn't much point in keeping focus. Most in Garden loved having fewer restrictions, viewing it as the first vacation many of them had ever had in their lives. But Squall was not so pleased.

As he saw it, SeeD was a military organization. They had a job to perform, and that job often required the members of SeeD to place themselves in warzones and combat situations. Without discipline to guide them, organization would break down, mistakes would be made. People would die unnecessarily. Discipline was unpleasant, yes, but death was worse.

Headmaster Cid and what little was left of Garden's administration wanted to maintain SeeD's composure, but too much had happened too fast. First, NORG led an uprising, dividing the Garden Staff and the SeeDs. After NORG's failed coup, the Garden Staff fled to avoid facing the consequences of their betrayal. A number of instructors and desk workers for Garden had left as well, either because they sympathized with NORG and his ruthless business practices, or the civil war in Garden had reminded them how dangerous this line of work could be.

This exodus of employees left gaping holes in the administration that all but shut down Garden. Factor in the destructive battle against Galbadia Garden, the constant travel, and the war with the sorceress Ultimecia, and all operations in Garden had no choice but to be put on hold.

Squall emerged from the hallway into the cavernous main area of Garden. The ceiling sloped upwards three stories, topped with an ornate dome. Circular lights formed a grid of dots in the ceiling, keeping the interior at an ever-constant brightness. A metal cylinder in the middle of the room rose all the way up and through the dome, housing the Garden's main elevator. From this central cylinder, walkways leading to the eight main divisions of Garden—including the dormitories—extended from the middle like spokes on a wheel. Connecting these spokes with the central hub was a single circular walkway that was bordered by water fountains, pools, and flowerbeds. Color-coded stripes on each walkway showed which division of Garden they connected.

Squall strode along the gray stripe that indicated the dormitory's pathway and headed to the central walkway. When he got there, he paused.

(Now what?)

At nighttime, the only two divisions that were open were the dormitories and the Training Area. The Training Area was filled with live monsters. Hardly an ideal place for Squall to gather his thoughts. And despite the quiet of the dormitories, Squall still felt too crowded, too pressed in by the narrow halls and the gaudy hallway decorations to really let his mind wander.

Short of taking aimless circles around the central loop, there was one other place Squall could think of. There was a balcony on the second floor that was likely to be vacant. It had almost always been locked, for safety reasons, but in the battle against Galbadia Garden, G-Soldiers had broken the lock. It had yet to be fixed.

Squall got on the circular walkway and headed for the elevator. As he moved, he tried to recollect his thoughts from where he'd left off.

(The Garden Staff leaving. Discipline in SeeD.)

Squall knew that the recent change in Garden wasn't just because of relaxed discipline. SeeD was a military organization, true, and they performed mercenary work around the globe. But their defining feature, the ideal they had been founded on, was the notion that SeeD existed to defeat the sorceress. It was in their mission statement, touched upon in most of their classes, and drilled into their minds from the moment they enlisted.

(SeeD exists to defeat the sorceress.)

And now the Sorceress Ultimecia was defeated. Or she would be defeated. Time travel made a muck out of causality and linear thought. In either case, SeeD had fought their final battle and emerged victorious. Knowing this, Squall couldn't blame the others for taking an unscheduled vacation. Why wake up early? Why study? Why train? Why prepare for a battle that has already been won?

Squall didn't have an answer.

He arrived at the elevator and pushed the call button. With a low hum, the elevator sank down to the first floor. A chime went off, and the glass doors slid open. Squall stepped inside and pushed the button for the second floor.

(Why even have SeeD at all?)

Because of his time traveling, Squall had a deeper insight into the origins of Garden and SeeD than anyone else aside from the Headmaster and Edea. He had, in fact, unintentionally inspired its creation. So he knew that there was no secondary goal in mind, no alternative plans in place after SeeD had won. SeeD was created to fight the sorceress. Now the sorceress was dead. SeeD's purpose was fulfilled.

The elevator chimed again, then stopped at the second floor. The doors opened, and Squall crossed a small bridge to the ring of classrooms that formed the entirety of the second floor. All the classroom doors were closed and locked, their lights shut off. He passed them one by one, remembering which instructors used to teach in which classrooms.

At the end of the curved hallway were two steel doorways. The one on the left was an emergency exit, ringed with yellow-and-black caution paint and a flashing red light atop its frame. The one on the right was marked with the word "Balcony," its handle sheared off by Galbadian weaponry. Squall pushed this door open and ascended the steps beyond up to the balcony.

Once outside, he stopped and looked up to the sky. The sun had not yet breached the horizon, and though the light was gaining fast, it was still dark enough to see most of the stars in the sky. A waist-high concrete wall formed the edge of the balcony. Squall stepped forward and rested his arms on the wall, keeping his eyes on the stars. It occurred to him that he had never, in all his years, actually seen a star fade away into the sunrise. He had seen the sky full of stars at night, and he'd seen the sky empty, lit by the sun, but he had never witnessed that transition between those two states.

His eyes found a bright star on the rim of the horizon and he fixed his gaze upon it. Would it fade as it was overwhelmed by the dawn, or would it blink out, like a lightbulb? He knew he probably should know the answer from some class or another he had taken, but the answer didn't come to him.

Down the steps behind him, the door to the balcony opened. Footsteps ascended the stairs. Squall sighed.

(So much for being alone.)

"You're up early," a man's voice said from behind Squall. Squall glanced over his shoulder. There stood the Garden's Headmaster, a man who looked more like someone's grandfather than the leader of the largest mercenary force in the world. Unlike Squall, Cid was fully dressed and ready for the day, with his familiar red vest and khaki dress pants. He held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand which he sipped at on occasion.

"That's what I like to see," Headmaster Cid said, walked to the edge of the balcony to stand beside Squall. "Our Commander setting a good example for the others. Goodness knows we need someone around here to exemplify SeeD discipline."

Squall looked at the headmaster.

(How did he know I was here?)

He decided not to ask that question. The answer didn't particularly interest him anyway. He asked the second question to come to mind.

"I'm still SeeD Commander?" Squall asked. "I thought that was over with."

"Well, why not?" Cid said. "Even during peacetime, armies need their generals to lead them. It's not like they fire all their generals every time war is over."

(It's not that they need the generals to lead their armies in peacetime. It's because they need them to stand by and be ready for the next war.)

Squall looked away from the Headmaster. His eyes, by force of habit, went downward, over the edge of the balcony. There was nothing to see below the balcony besides the drifting waves of the ocean. Still, Squall couldn't make eye contact for a long period of time. It felt more natural to speak to someone without looking directly at them. Staring at someone was demanding. It pressured the other person. Squall was not a person who pressured the Headmaster of Balamb Garden.

"Something on your mind, Squall?" Cid asked. He paused, then laughed to himself. "Ah, who am I kidding? Of course there is. A better question would be: would you care to share what's on your mind, Squall?"

"Just… thinking," Squall said.

"Yes?" Cid said. He sipped his coffee. "I already knew that you were thinking. I asked what you were thinking _about_."

Squall sighed. He raised his head, choosing to watch the horizon rather than the sea. "What's next? Where does SeeD go from here?"

"First, we go back to Balamb," Cid said. "Nida tells me that we should arrive sometime this afternoon. Then we have to resupply in town. According to Xu, we are dangerously low on hot dogs. I don't want to imagine the riots that will ensue if we run out completely."

Cid smirked at that last comment, and looked to Squall for a reaction. Squall continued to watch the horizon, showing no emotion.

"No, I mean the future," Squall said. He glanced at Cid once, then turned away again. "Long term. What does SeeD do a year from now? Ten years? A hundred?"

Cid nodded. His smirk died away, and his tone assumed the seriousness that Squall had wanted from the start. "That's been on my mind too. 'SeeD exists to defeat the sorceress.' If the sorceress is defeated, does that mean that SeeD no longer exists?"

(Exactly.)

"I'll be honest," Cid said, "I've thought about disbanding SeeD. I don't like sending children off to fight wars, however necessary it might be. Or seem to be. I don't like training them to kill. I want to give you all a purpose, a job, a mission, but mercenary work is no life for people of your age."

"We're not children," Squall said. He rested his hand on his hip and looked at the Headmaster.

Cid chuckled. "Yes. Yes, you are. But at the same time, I can't just turn all these hundreds of children out in the street, can I? I can't very well say, 'Okay, SeeD is done with. Everybody go home now.' Most of my students are orphans. There is no home waiting for them. No families to take them in. Garden is the only home available for so many of my students. I can't turn my back on them."

Cid looked at Squall. Squall thought that he was maybe searching for a statement from Squall, some sort of confirmation or agreement. Squall didn't know what to say, so he was silent.

Cid sighed and turned to face the sea. "Edea and I have talked about this. It's our duty to give you all a future, but… it's starting to look like the only future we have to offer is one of violence and bloodshed."

(Didn't he know this already when he founded SeeD?)

(… Is he going soft?)

Squall straightened up. He didn't like the tone of Cid's voice, his choice of words. It sounded like defeat, like Cid had given up on SeeD. Squall didn't know where the future of Seed rested, but he knew that SeeD did have a future. It must have a future. He'd seen it himself, on the shores outside of Ultimecia's Castle.

"We've always known what SeeD has meant, Headmaster," Squall said. "We knew what was at stake when we signed up. You don't have to feel sorry for us. We chose this life."

"Maybe there's a better way," Cid said.

A thought forced itself into Squall's mind, a single image from his memory. The future he had witnessed for himself. After Time Compression, after floating through the seas of shattered timelines and breaking through in an age generations beyond their own, Squall and the others had arrived on the shores outside of Edea's orphanage. There, strewn along the sand, were the bodies of soldiers Squall's age, dressed in the uniforms of White SeeDs: white uniforms with cream-colored joint pads. There was no mistaking their allegiance, or question of how death had come to them. They had died fighting the sorceress; they had died as SeeDs.

Since that day, this thought, more than any other, had pressed in his mind. Whatever the future held for SeeD, it would come at the price of death. SeeD would persist, in some form or another, and the fighting would not stop ever, even until the last days of Ultimecia's reign.

All of this had been in Squall's report, which he had given to the Headmaster upon successful completion of the mission.

(Has the Headmaster forgotten? Or is he choosing not to remember?)

"The fighting isn't going to stop," Squall said. "We both know that."

"No, no, no," Cid said. "Of course not. People are always going to be in some war or another. Some jerk with more power than brains is going to point his guns at someone else and innocent lives will be lost in the never ending struggle to prove absolutely nothing at all. That's the way it's always been. I'm old, Squall, but I'm not senile. Not yet."

Cid took a breath. "I meant… I meant it could be different. SeeD doesn't have to be _just_ mercenaries, or _just_ fighting against the sorceress. We have a great deal of power and resources at our disposal. It is up to us to decide how to use them. And I think I have a few ideas of how best to use our talents."

"Oh?"

Cid smiled and glanced at Squall. "I won't tell you just yet. I'm going to make an announcement later this morning, detailing my ideas. I'll tell you about it before then."

(Why can't you tell me now?)

"For now I think you should head back to your dorm and get ready, Squall," Cid said. "It's going to be a busy day today, and I want you ready to lead the others. Understood?"

That last word was spoken with a crisp edge of authority. It was not an idle statement, but a command issued from a superior. Squall snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, Headmaster."

Cid sipped his coffee. "Good. Go get ready. And don't think too much about what's going to happen to SeeD in a hundred years. You can drive yourself crazy doing that. Believe me."

(No promises.)

Squall relaxed his salute and turned back for the door. At the last moment, he remembered the star he'd been watching when he first stepped onto the balcony. He turned and scanned the horizon, but it was gone, washed away by the rising sun. Squall sighed.

"You forget something?" Cid asked.

"No, just… thinking too much," Squall said.

"It's what you do best, Squall."

Squall walked down the stairs and closed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2: Make My Move

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Make My Move**_

(Irvine)

In Irvine's experience, there were certain criteria a location had to meet in order for it to be an attractive place to take a girl.

First, it had to be private. Nothing was worse than having a perfect date ruined by some idiot crashing through at that special moment. The training center, despite being an unconventional site for a date, passed his first test. With Garden's suspension of classes and missions, the training center had fallen into disuse. A few of the more obsessive SeeDs would take a couple loops around the main pathway to keep up their skills, but usually they would wait until later in the day to journey out from their dorm rooms. That left the training center empty most mornings.

Second, Irvine found that he worked his charms better when he didn't have time limits. Movies and dinners were popular choices for amateurs, but the length of the date was limited by the film and the food. Something outside of Irvine's control was dictating how long the date was going to last. Some guys enjoyed this restriction, seeing as it gave them an excuse to change locations and advance the date to the next step. That may be fine for them, but Irvine found it stifling. He liked having the time to really _work_, to develop the situation naturally, however long it took. And when it came time to make his move, it was Irvine's initiative, not some external force, setting the pace of the date. The training center had no time limits whatsoever, a second point in its favor.

And according to the third and final test, the place had to be interesting to girls. A man's choice of location reflected on him, his tastes, his personality, and if he chose something boring, then the girl would assume that he, too, was boring. This third test knocked out most of the Garden, like the dormitories, the quad, the cafeteria, and especially the parking lot. Only a moron would take a girl to a parking lot.

(And if the girl's willing to _go_ to a parking lot, then you really need to wonder about her standards.)

(… On second thought, a parking lot might work if you had a really nice car. But it would have to be one hell of a car.)

(… Maybe I should get a car?)

A lesser man would have never thought to bring their date to the training center because it seemed to fail the first and third tests. While the training center was unpopulated by humans, it was still teeming with monsters, so there goes the privacy test. And what normal girl wants to go into a jungle full of monsters? There goes the third test too.

And that was Irvine's genius. He saw around the problems that might stop other people. Galbadia Garden, Irvine's native school, did not junction Guardian Forces, so when Irvine first joined the SeeDs in their mission to assassinate the Sorceress Edea, they had given him the GF Diablos so that he could fight at their level. Diablos, like other GFs, increased Irvine's strength and speed and allowed him to cast magic, but Diablos was peculiar in that it had the ability to repel monsters. Using this ability gave a workaround to the training center's monster problem, allowing it to pass the first test.

As Irvine and Selphie stepped through the steel gate leading into the training center, Irvine reached into his mind, accessed the GF's latent abilities, and commanded it to activate this power. He felt a wave of energy pulsing from his skin out into the atmosphere, pushing at the air, creating a protective bubble that extended for as far as he could see. Humans and animals were unaware of this energy, but monsters could feel it: a gentle but insistent force that kept them away.

As for Irvine's third test, that was a generalization of girls and didn't apply to every situation or every girl. Most girls would not be willing to go to the training center, but Irvine had learned that Selphie was an exception. She was an exception to everything.

(I've always known she was special.)

Irvine and Selphie walked the main trail—a series of interconnected sheets of metal grating, which, like almost everything else in Balamb Garden, formed a wide circle around the training center. On the inside and outside of this circle was thick jungle and high grass. Because of Irvine's GF, they were able to go halfway around the loop without seeing a single monster. There weren't any people around either. Irvine glanced down the trail, then into the trees, then backwards. Nothing in all directions.

(Perfect.)

Selphie kicked a rock from the trail. It arced into the jungle and clattered from tree to tree before settling in the undergrowth.

"Man, it's really quiet here," Selphie said.

Irvine shrugged. "Maybe the monsters are taking a break. Everyone else is."

She looked at Irvine. "You sure your GF isn't keeping them away?"

He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Whatever it is, it ain't me."

Selphie held her gaze for a second longer, then shrugged and looked away.

"'Kay," she said. She continued down the path, looking left and right for monsters. Irvine remained where he stood, watching her go. The tips of her hair bobbed with her footsteps. The oversized nunchaku in her left hand made her seem even smaller and thinner than she was.

(So, Irvine. What's the next move?)

Selphie was an exception to everything. Irvine's standard playbook for dates didn't apply to her, and every step had to be carefully thought through. He couldn't skate by on standard moves and tired clichés like he could with most girls. More frustrating than that, however, was the fact that he could not read her at all. By being an exception to the rules, Selphie was also an exception to Irvine's understanding of women.

(What does she _want_?)

Irvine knew the easiest way to get a girl was to have something she wanted. Normally his good looks and cool disposition were enough to win over females, but Selphie wasn't so impressed by that. Nothing else in Irvine's list of tricks had excited her much either. Not that she was a cold, unfeeling robot. She had needs and desires like anyone else; he just had to figure out what they were.

Selphie stopped walking and glanced over her shoulder. "Hey! Irvy!" She waved at him, her pale skin flashing under the bright florescent lights. "Your foot stuck or something?"

Irvine blinked.

"Naw, just thought I saw something," he said.

"Well, come on! The monsters aren't just gonna to come to us! We gotta go to _them_!"

He nodded, then lifted his shotgun and cocked it. He set his feet and brought his shotgun to his chest, striking one of his more well-practiced poses.

"You're right. Let's do this," he said.

"Yeah!" Selphie said. She pumped a fist in the air and spun around. Irvine jogged to catch up to her, then walked alongside her down the trail. He'd wanted for this to be a somewhat normal date, where he and Selphie could talk about themselves, each other, and the status of their relationship. That was his mistake: making plans as if Selphie was just a regular girl, one who was more interested in hair and makeup rather than magic and combat. Selphie came to the training center because she wanted to stomp some monster faces, and to deny her the opportunity would just frustrate her.

Irvine sighed. He would have liked to talk some more with Selphie, but obviously now was not the time.

(Maybe the training center wasn't a hot idea after all.)

He focused for a minute, diving into his own mind. He found the GF's energy, lurking around in his skull like a vivid memory. He found the ability that repelled monsters and shut it off. The energy field that surrounded him disappeared, and Irvine was left with an empty, absent feeling, similar to being cold. The feeling wore off after a couple of seconds.

Soon after, a monster wandered out of the jungle undergrowth and shuffled on the path in front of Irvine and Selphie. It was a plant-like thing with a green, fleshy sack for a body. Tiny, insectile legs propelled it along, and a pair of long stalks grew from its body and waved in the air, functioning as both antennae and arms. Irvine had learned that these monsters were called Grats, and they were the most common enemy in the training center.

"Woo! Finally!" Selphie said. She gripped her giant nunchaku in both hands and braced herself for battle. Irvine readied his shotgun. From this distance, it would have been easy for him to drop the monster with a single blast from his shotgun. He knew, though, that Selphie needed this kill more than he did. He kept his weapon ready in case something went wrong, although he doubted Selphie would have any troubles against a weak monster like a Grat.

The monster's antennae arms detected the presence of two humans. Without hesitation, it charged, its little insect legs skittering on the metal grating. It swung its arms backwards, like a tree blowing in the wind, building momentum for a strike. Before it could throw its arms forward and attack, Selphie jumped forward and spun in the air. She let go of her nunchaku with one hand, whipping the monster with the opposite end. The wooden pole struck the monster with a watery slap, sending ripples along its soft body. The Grat stumbled, then flopped to the ground at Selphie's feet. Its arms wilted, acidic juices dribbled out of its mouth. Its sack-like body deflated and it was still.

With an expert flick of her wrist, Selphie regathered the other half of her nunchaku and got back in her battle stance. Then she looked down and saw the condition of the monster. She relaxed, her shoulders slumped.

"Aww…" she said. She stepped up to the monster and poked it with the toe of her boot. It gurgled, but didn't move. "Is it dead?"

Irvine stepped next to her. "You broke it. You gotta learn to take better care of your toys."

"But I barely even touched it!" Selphie said.

"Yeah, wasn't much of a fight, was it?" Irvine said.

"We gotta find some more!" she said. Before Irvine could react, Selphie leapt off the metal path and into the jungle, tearing through the branches and undergrowth with glee.

"Selphie! Hold up!" Irvine said. He took two steps in pursuit, then stopped.

(No sense chasing her. She can handle herself. I'd probably just get in her way.)

Alone, he puttered along the trail, listening to the sounds of Selphie's energetic battles as she encountered monsters. After a few fights using her weapon, Selphie began to mix it up and use magic. Irvine recognized the spells she was casting based on their sounds alone. The roar and crackle of a fire spell. The gunshot-like burst of a thunder spell. The shattering glass of an ice spell.

He thought she'd get bored after five minutes. She didn't. He thought she'd get fatigued after fifteen minutes. She didn't. Then he thought she'd flat out run out of monsters after a half an hour. Somehow, she always found more.

(Damn, she's a maniac.)

"YAAAAA!" Selphie hollered from distant spot in the training center. There was a small explosion in the jungle, and a burst of heat so intense even Irvine's skin warmed for a moment.

(At least she's having fun…)

Irvine felt left out. He was okay if Selphie had fun without him. He wasn't so self-absorbed that he needed to be the only source of her entertainment. But the fact that she was having so much fun, and had never even come by to check on him or invite him to join her was what was really disheartening. It made Irvine think too much.

A single Grat that had survived Selphie's rampage managed to stumble out of the jungle and into Irvine's line of sight. It was still unaware of Irvine's presence.

(No sense in me just sitting around and not doing anything.)

He adjusted the brim of his hat and brought his shotgun to his shoulder. The Grat still hadn't noticed him and had even had the courtesy to stop in the middle of the path, leaving no obstructions between Irvine and the monster. There was no challenge in the shot.

So Irvine brought his shotgun down and whistled at the Grat. Its antennae waved, then it detected Irvine. It charged as fast as its little legs could carry it, which was about jogging pace for an average human. It was still an easy shot, but at least now it was a moving target. He raised his weapon again and aimed.

The instant before Irvine pulled the trigger, he caught sight of two pairs of skinny, smooth legs emerging from the jungle to his left. He glanced up and saw two female SeeD cadets, somewhere around Irvine's age, pushing through the jungle and making their way towards the trail. Even though they were well out of his line of fire, years of strict training had taught him to never fire his weapon if there was something beyond his target that he was not willing to destroy.

(Especially girls.)

Irvine instead opted to use magic, which wouldn't overrun his target like a bullet would. Magic still didn't come as naturally to him as it did the others, but he'd found out that he could still channel the energy if he didn't think of magic as casting a spell, but rather as though he was firing a very peculiar kind of bullet.

He pointed his shotgun upwards and focused simultaneously on his mind and on the tip of his barrel. He called from Diablos' energy reserves, bringing a spell out of his mind and into his shotgun, imagining himself loading the shotgun with the spell. It took a couple moments for him to do this, but the slow Grat was still closing the gap when Irvine was finished.

Once the spell was "loaded," Irvine swung his shotgun to the side, then slashed it across his body, as if he was throwing a bullet at the Grat. Instantly, a column of spiraling flame that burned as high as the trees appeared on the trail, releasing a burst of heat in all directions. The Grat had enough time to stop running and cry out before the intense heat reduced it to a blackened husk. The spell ended, the heat dissipated, and the crispy shell of what used to be a Grat fell over on the path only a few feet away from Irvine.

And best of all, the two girls had seen every second. They approached Irvine, their mouths open in awe.

"Wow!" one of the girls said. She was blonde, short, and wore a black skirt and a t-shirt for some band that Irvine had never heard of. He found himself suddenly very curious about this band. The second girl had dark hair, and wore a small pair of glasses that made her look slightly older than she would otherwise. She reminded Irvine of a shorter version of Quistis.

"I've never seen a fire spell so strong," the second girl said. Her voice was soft, as if she was always whispering. "Even the instructors only show mid-level spells in their demonstrations."

Irvine shrugged and rested his shotgun on his shoulder. Another well-practiced pose of his.

"Eh, you pick these things up after a while," Irvine said. "It's just practice, you know? Anyone can do it, really."

Nonchalant and confident, but not arrogant. His words also hinted that he would, if asked, be able to teach them how to replicate his spell.

Everything according to the playbook.

"What's your name, cowboy?" the blonde said.

Irvine removed his hat and bowed slightly. "Name's Irvine. It's a pleasure to meet you two ladies."

He put his hat back on. Both girls were smiling, their eyes darting up and down, from Irvine's face, to his body, to his lips, back to his eyes. He was also aware of how close, how very close, they were standing to him. They couldn't have been more obvious if they screamed their thoughts at him.

"I'm Maelie," the blonde said. "And this is my friend Cat."

"Fine names for fine young ladies," Irvine said.

"I've seen you around before a couple times, Irvine," Maelie said. "Where you from?"

For the first time in the conversation, Irvine had to think about his response. That was a question he'd been hoping to avoid. He was too old to pretend to be a new cadet, so he had to have transferred from one of the other two Gardens. And after the violent battle between Galbadia Garden, it was not smart for Irvine to say the truth. So he went with the only remaining option.

"I'm from Trabia Garden," Irvine said. "I just transferred."

Both girls looked at each other. Their mouths went from gaping in awe, to gaping in profound shock and sympathy.

"Aww…" both girls said in unison. They even harmonized a little.

Irvine looked away for a moment, cleared his throat, fighting back emotions that didn't exist.

"We heard about what happened," Cat said. "We're so sorry. That must have been horrible."

"I wasn't there when… when it happened," Irvine said. "I guess I'm lucky in a way."

Balance was essential here. Too much emotion and he'd look weak, helpless. At best, the girls would act motherly towards him, seeing him more as an abused animal rather than a man. At worst, they'd be disgusted by his excessive outburst. Too little emotion, though, and he'd seem heartless, distant. It was that middle ground that was the sweet spot. Vulnerable, yet strong.

"I don't like to talk about it," Irvine said, measuring his voice carefully. That much was true at least. Lying about Trabia was not something he enjoyed.

"SO!" Selphie said from behind Irvine. Irvine didn't know if she'd tried to make him jump or not, but she'd succeeded either way. Irvine threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Selphie a few feet away. Her boots were muddy. Her skin and clothes were covered in streaks of green, either from the jungle plants or from slain Grats, Irvine couldn't tell. "Who here is from Trabia?"

(Well, I'm screwed.)

"Hey, Selphie," Irvine said. He cheered up and swung his arms wide open, welcoming Selphie. From the perspective of the two new girls, this sudden emotional shift wouldn't make sense, but he wasn't concerned about them at the moment. "This is Maelie and Cat. We were talking about what happened in Trabia."

Selphie stepped forward, moving in between Irvine and the other two girls. With her messy hair and clothes, she looked like a feral child, raised by wolves in the jungle. Cat, even though she was bigger than Selphie, inched back a little.

"It's so awful," Maelie said. She was still flirting a little with Irvine, her body angled towards him and her face full of sympathy. But Cat was catching on, and looked at Irvine with mixed emotions.

"Yeah, yeah, awful," Selphie said. "Go away."

"Are you from Trabia too?" Maelie said.

She obviously was not getting the idea. Irvine stepped in between Selphie and the girls and smiled.

"It was nice meeting you two," Irvine said. He grabbed Selphie's hand and pulled her away from the other two. "But we really must be going."

"Oh… okay," Maelie said. She waved at Irvine. "See you around, cowboy."

Irvine and Selphie walked past the girls. Cat nudged her friend forward down the trail and deeper into the training center. Maelie turned to catch Irvine's eye as he walked around her, but Irvine knew he was already in enough trouble as it is. He kept his eyes forward.

When they were near the exit, Selphie stopped, turned around, removed her hand from Irvine's grip, and used it to open-hand slap Irvine's chest.

"Ow," Irvine said. "I was just being friendly!"

Selphie looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You didn't have to say you're from Trabia though. That's way uncool, Irvine. Like, seriously. If uncoolness was a disease, we'd all be dead by now."

"Sorry," Irvine said. "I didn't think I could tell them the truth."

Selphie glared at Irvine. Not knowing what else to do, Irvine smiled and did his best to look innocent.

Just when Irvine thought she'd slap him again, Selphie's glare broke. She smiled. "Tee-hee," she said. "Okay, fine. But don't do that again, all right?"

(Oh, hell, that was a close one.)

"I cross my heart," Irvine said. He drew an X across his chest with one finger. "That was dumb of me, I admit."

"Do you admit that you're the dumbest person in Garden?" Selphie asked.

"Super dumb. When I go to the dormitories, they become the dumbitories," Irvine said.

"The dumbest in the world?"

"Impossibly dumb. The Lunar Cry happens because the moon is sad that I'm so dumb."

"The dumbest in the _universe_?"

"I am the reason why aliens don't communicate with humanity," Irvine said. "They think that any species that can make someone as dumb as me is not worth their time and effort."

Selphie nodded. "Good. You are forgiven! Let's go."

She turned and headed for the exit. Irvine exhaled his relief, then followed after her.

The pair reached the perimeter fence, with its thick, electrified wires. A heavy steel gate provided access to and from the training center. Selphie pushed on a glowing red button next to the gate, and the gate opened outward.

"You're still planning to go, right?" Irvine said. He tucked his shotgun into a special pouch inside his trench coat. When his coat was closed, it was hard to see the shotgun hidden inside his clothes. Selphie had no convenient place on her person to keep her nunchaku, so she carried them with her.

"To Trabia?" Selphie asked. Irvine nodded. "Of course! But do you think they'll let us?"

"If they won't, then I'll talk them into it," Irvine said. The gate opened all the way. Beyond was a secondary paddock, which kept monsters from escaping into the Garden if any of them managed to sneak through the perimeter fence. The gate shut behind the pair as they walked across the paddock to the next gate. Selphie pushed the button, and they waited as the second gate opened.

"And anyway," Irvine said, "I don't see why they would stop us. It's not like we're doing a hell of a lot around here. I think they can let us leave, no problem."

They stepped through the gate and entered into the long hallway that connected the training center with the rest of the Garden. Irvine had more he wanted to say, but he was interrupted by three low chimes coming from the Garden's intercom system. The speakers embedded in the ceiling crackled to life. After a moment, Headmaster Cid's voice echoed down the hall.

"Ahem, good morning students," he said. "Today is a special day for several reasons. As most of you already know, we are on course to return to our familiar spot back on the island of Balamb early this afternoon. But more than that, today is special because it is going to mark a change in the course of SeeD's future. I feel this change is too important for a simple PA announcement, so I would like for you all to gather in the quad in five minutes, where I will make the official announcement. Thank you all, and I will see you in the quad."

The intercom chimed again, then shut off. Irvine and Selphie stood alone in the hallway.

"What do you think it is?" Selphie asked.

"Hope it's nothing too big," Irvine said. "I don't want SeeD to change. I like it the way it is. But maybe…"

Selphie tilted her head to one side. "Maybe what?"

(I probably shouldn't say this…)

"Maybe he's ending SeeD," Irvine said. "SeeD's supposed to defeat the sorceress, right? Well, we did that. Maybe there's no need for SeeD anymore."

"NOOO!" Selphie jumped into the air and slammed her heels onto the floor. "I just transferred here! He can't just end SeeD like that! It's not fair!"

(Knew I shouldn'ta said that.)

Irvine held up his hands to try to calm her down. "I said _maybe_ he would. _Maybe_. I don't know what he's gonna do. And I don't think—"

"He's not ending SeeD!" Selphie said, almost yelling. "I won't let him!"

Before Irvine could stop her, Selphie sprinted down the hall.

He shouted after her, "Selphie, calm down! He's not ending SeeD!"

She wasn't listening. She bolted away, gone from sight a few seconds later.

He thought about chasing after her, but knew that nothing short of running her down and tackling her would stop her. And even that wasn't likely to stop her for long. His only option was to wait and hope Selphie calmed herself before she did any damage.

(Smooth one, Irvine. Maybe you _are_ the dumbest person in the universe.)

With one hand, he adjusted his hat. Then he started walking down the hall.

He didn't know what Cid was going to announce. Regardless, it couldn't be good news for him. As he'd said to Selphie earlier, he liked SeeD as it was. That wasn't to say that he liked the way they operated or their rules or anything. He meant that he liked SeeD the way it was at that exact moment. He liked the freedom of not worrying about classes or discipline or training. He liked roaming the halls alone or with Selphie and not having anywhere important to be. It was the first time he'd truly been free to do as he pleased since he left Edea's orphanage and enlisted at Galbadia Garden.

Change meant that this vacation wasn't going to last. Change meant an end to the freedom. Irvine took his time heading to the quad, wondering if it would be the last time he would be allowed to go anywhere at his own pace.

His solitude was broken when he reached the end of the hall and joined with the main loop of Garden. Students were coming out of the other areas of the school, mostly the dorms and the cafeteria, but some were coming from the library as well. The mass of students formed a trickle that turned into a river, as the entire student body of Garden made its way to the quad.

Everyone was dressed in their civilian clothes, jeans and tees and polo shirts, ragged clothes with brands and symbols and bright colors. When Irvine first arrived in Garden, most students wore their Garden uniforms. As standards relaxed, so had the dress code. Irvine didn't mind at all. The uniforms for all three Gardens were stuffy and unflattering. Function over form. Now girls got to wear whatever they wanted, and to Irvine's delight, many of them chose to wear short skirts, tight tank tops, and form-fitting pants.

(Another thing I don't want to see changed.)

He did a quick once-over of himself before he joined the stream of students walking to the quad. Was his hair good? His cowboy hat cocked at a rebellious—but not sloppy—angle? His clothes free of dirt and plant matter from the training center? He wasn't trying to impress anybody in particular, but maintaining his appearance was as natural as breathing for him. He did it subconsciously, the routine memorized and perfected.

Assured of his sexiness, Irvine joined with the mass of people. Then the next part of his routine started. He relaxed his face until it was a mask of pensiveness, marked with just a hint of sadness. His steps were measured, like a person lost in thought. At intervals, he would look up wistfully, staring at nothing. A man stuck on a desert island, waiting for a sign of a passing ship.

This was the identity he'd cultured over years at Galbadia. Aloof and intelligent, while still being approachable and desirable. It was an adopted persona, but it had become so deeply ingrained in his thoughts and actions that it became, in a way, a core element of who Irvine was as a person.

The routine was a killer back in Galbadia Garden. Unfortunately he'd had little success in Balamb. Irvine figured that with Squall running around, Balamb already had enough miserable loners for one Garden, and Irvine's routine failed to make him stand out. In the suffocating discipline of Galbadia Garden, if one had enough free time to show emotion, it was usually excitement or happiness. Students were ecstatic to not be standing in formation, studying, or being punished. Irvine had mastered the art of looking depressed when others assumed he should be excited, and that reversal of expectations made him an individual.

No one stopped to talk to the sad, lonesome cowboy with his hands in his pockets. Instead, they marched past, oblivious. Snippets of their conversation floated over into Irvine's ears.

"—Finally get something done around here. I was about to lose my mind. Did you—"

"—Probably not a big deal. It can't be any worse than when—"

"—Going to raise the age limitations, so that people can stay with SeeD longer—"

"—Now we have to start doing things again. Ugh, and I'd just managed to catch up on—"

Irvine turned down the hallway with the rest of the students and proceeded into the quad. Three sets of stairs divided by tiled landings brought SeeDs from the hallway down to the quad. Trees and miniature gardens were planted alongside the landings. The trees helped shade the pathway from the sun, as the quad area was the only section on Garden's first floor that wasn't enclosed. Irvine blinked in the sudden sunlight, then tipped his hat down to shield his eyes. Through the trees, past the edge of the quad, the endless blue ocean drifted away as Garden piloted ever closer to its destination.

At the bottom of the stairs, in the wide area that was the Garden's quad, a makeshift platform had been set up. Irvine recognized that the platform was made from the remnants of the Garden's sound stage—a piece of SeeD that was particularly dear to Selphie, before it had been destroyed when Garden crashed into Fisherman's Horizon.

Or almost destroyed. Apparently enough still remained to make a platform big enough to accommodate a dozen or so people. Scaffolding elevated it off the ground to about waist-height. Currently there was a podium with a microphone on the front of the platform. Two large speakers rested on the front corners of the stage. Wires snaked across the floor and connected to the microphone. Quistis, Nida, and Xu were checking the equipment. Irvine noticed that they were all wearing their SeeD uniforms. He couldn't recall ever having seen them all in their uniforms before.

(Weird…)

Nida stepped up to the microphone.

"Uh… testing…" he said into the microphone. His voice came through both speakers, slightly distorted, but clear. He gave a thumbs up to Xu.

At the back of the platform, a handful of metal folding chairs had been set up. Squall, Rinoa, Edea, and the Headmaster sat on these chairs. Squall had his uniform on, and was muttering something to Rinoa. Edea and the Headmaster were watching the students file into the quad.

The students formed an unorganized mass at the foot of the stage. Even through the rainbow of clothing and surging bodies, Irvine had no trouble picking out Selphie's bright yellow dress and familiar hairstyle. The green stripes on her body from the training center helped as well. She stood at the front of the group, right beneath the podium. She was moving from foot to foot, seeming on the verge of an explosion. She was still holding her nunchaku.

(I really shouldn't have said anything… So stupid of me…)

Irvine slid his way through the crowd, smiling, apologizing, and tipping his hat. He finally reached Selphie and stood beside her.

She noticed Irvine and turned to him.

"I've been thinking…" she said.

"'Bout what?" Irvine said.

"Should I go on stage now and tell the Headmaster not to end SeeD, or should I just take the mic and yell it so that everyone can hear?"

"Neither," Irvine said. "Look, I don't think he's ending SeeD. I'm sorry I said that. Really sorry, actually."

She didn't seem to have heard him. "I'm going for the mic," she said.

Selphie planted one booted foot on the platform and began climbing up. Irvine yelped and grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her back down.

"Just hear him out, okay?" Irvine said.

"Oohh… I get it," Selphie said. "Let him make the announcement first, _then_ start yelling. Gotcha."

(Close enough.)

"Yeah… do that."

Selphie nodded and smiled. She bounced in place as she waited for the action to start. Squall saw that Selphie had tried to climb onto the stage. He looked at Irvine, questioning with his eyes. Irvine grinned and gave a thumbs-up, and Squall turned back to face Rinoa.

Students finished piling in to the quad. A minute or so after all the students had entered, Zell and a half dozen SeeD cadets that Irvine didn't recognize jogged down the steps. None were wearing uniforms. Zell leapt onto the podium while the cadets mixed into the crowd. He ran up to Xu and nodded to her. Irvine was close enough to the stage to hear them above the rumble of the crowd.

"Everyone's here," Zell said. "We checked all the rooms."

"Good, let's get started," Xu said. Quistis took a seat next to the Headmaster and Edea. Zell and Nida hopped off the stage and joined the mass of students as Xu stepped up to the podium. She tapped the microphone once, sending a dull thump and a mechanical shriek through the speakers.

"Good morning, Garden," Xu said. She waited a second for the chattering to stop and the students to turn and face the stage. "As the Headmaster said over the intercom, there is an important announcement he would like to make to you all. So let's get right to it. Here's the Headmaster."

Xu stepped aside and took the last remaining seat on the stage. Headmaster Cid nodded, then got to his feet and stepped up to the podium. The students clapped politely.

"Yes, thank you, Xu," Cid said. He turned to the microphone. "You'll all have to forgive me in advance; I don't have a proper speech prepared, so this might ramble a bit. Anyway—"

"You're not shuttin' down SeeD!" Selphie yelled, startling the Headmaster. She had one defiant fist raised in the air, making it easy for every eye in the Garden to find her. Irvine coughed and tried his best to be invisible. The shocked silence of the entire Garden didn't faze Selphie at all. She stared up at the Headmaster, unmovable, daring him to argue with her. The Headmaster adjusted his collar and recovered himself.

"No… No I am _not_ shutting down SeeD," Cid said into the microphone.

Selphie brought her fist down.

"Good…" she said.

(Well, that could have turned out worse, I guess.)

The Headmaster continued.

"Ahem… well… Selphie's outburst may have been… unexpected… but it does give me an opportunity to get right to the point. I understand that, in the wake of the defeat of Sorceress Ultimecia, SeeD is left with a bit of an identity crisis. For years now, SeeD has defined itself as a para-military organization that exists to oppose and defeat the sorceress. But in the absence of an immediate sorceress threat, what then is SeeD's purpose? My response to that is two-fold."

Cid relaxed into a comfortable speaking rhythm and began gesturing broadly as he spoke.

"For one, we need a new mission statement, obviously. SeeD has accomplished its old purpose and it is time for a new one. SeeD is now going to be an international peace-keeping force. We are to use our powers and abilities to protect lives in all nations. We fight to _end_ fighting. One of the things I learned during our brief stay at Fisherman's Horizon is that SeeD's very existence invites conflict. And why wouldn't it? Conflict is our profession. It is the source of our income, and it is the focus of our training. But soon that will change."

A wave of whispers swept across the student body. Cid held up a hand to ask for silence before he continued.

"While I would dearly like to end the mercenary aspect of Garden completely, we know that that is a financial impossibility. Garden has too many expenses for us to abandon that path without risking bankruptcy. And that is an outcome I will _not_ consider.

"However, I want your lives to be more than just conflict. To that end, we will expand on an idea that we originally had, but disregarded. Our idea was to train young people to take miscellaneous jobs of all sorts all over the world. This was our first plan, until NORG crunched the numbers and realized that the dream was unrealistic. But I believe, and our figures seem to agree with me, that a combination of the ideas could work very well. To that end, Garden will become a true military school, educating you not just in preparation for battle, but in preparation for life. We will train you in the skills you need to become productive, healthy members of society."

There were some whispers in the audience. Selphie scrunched up her face.

"You mean we gotta get jobs?" she asked, loud enough for everyone to hear her.

"No one can fight forever," Cid said, both responding to Selphie and continuing his speech. "I'd like for you all to have real futures. I want for you to be able to live in a town or a village, raise families, and be normal. I don't want you to be trapped as soldiers for life. Not unless you choose to be.

"That brings me to my second point: SeeD's future. I will not live forever, nor will my wife Edea. It is our wish that SeeD carries on our dreams even after our passing. To that end, as soon as we dock back in Balamb, we are going to start working towards SeeD's future, and that means establishing a permanent power structure that is not dependent on me or any single person to maintain. I believe that my role, as a man with no combat experience—only administrative skills and an idea—is nearing the end of its usefulness in Garden. So we must prepare those who would take my place.

"I imagine a day, hopefully soon, in which all the roles of SeeD's administration will be held by those who once wore the SeeD uniform and fought SeeD's battles. With the departure of the Garden Faculty, we now have convenient vacancies to begin establishing this power structure. Senior members of SeeD will now be able to continue their careers as staff members, ultimately controlling the future operations for all of SeeD. A list of the available job openings and the qualifications required for these positions will be posted soon on the directory in the main hall, with interviews for each position being held shortly thereafter. I encourage anyone who is interested to apply, even if you're not sure you're qualified. We will train the right candidate for the job."

He looked back at the people who were sitting in the chairs behind him. He held his gaze on Edea for a second, then turned back to the crowd.

"I suppose…" he said. "… that is about everything I wanted to say. I look forward to the day when I pass my title as 'Headmaster' on to one of you. A few closing statements from SeeD's Commander are in order, and then you are all dismissed."

Cid moved aside and motioned for Squall to take the podium. Squall sighed. Rinoa smiled at him, then elbowed him in the side. He got to his feet and stepped up to the podium. Cid sat down beside his wife and looked up at Squall. Squall put a hand on his hip. He sighed again.

"Hey, everyone," he said. "I'll be continuing my role as SeeD Commander for the duration of… until something changes, I guess. We're still working out some of the details. I just want to emphasize two things. One, I'm mostly going to be in charge of the mercenary aspect of Garden. I'll be controlling what missions we accept and organizing their execution. If you have questions about something else, like administration or something, then I'm not the guy to ask. And two, although Garden's focus is going to be shifting, we're still SeeDs, first and foremost. Everyone is going to be expected to be combat-trained and combat-ready, even if your focus isn't on missions. So don't go thinking that you can let your training slip or anything like that. Be ready for battle at any time."

He paused. "I guess that's all. Thanks."

He stepped away from the podium. The crowd started clapping, slowly at first, then rising to a steady roar. It was difficult to hear above the din, but Irvine was still able to discern what Squall said to Rinoa as he sat down next to her.

"Why are you clapping for me?" Squall said he said to her. "That was a terrible speech."

Irvine couldn't hear Rinoa's response. She continued clapping.

Headmaster Cid stood up and raised his voice above the volume of the crowd. "You are all dismissed until further notice."

With that, the crowd stopped clapping and began to shuffle out of the quad. Irvine and Selphie stood where they were as the students walked past. The speech left Irvine feeling confused. It seemed like the Headmaster had a lot that he wanted to say, but he didn't have all his thoughts organized at the time. There were a number of questions Irvine still wanted to ask.

"Whew, he's not ending SeeD," Selphie said. "Why did you tell me he was?"

"I said he might," Irvine said. "Never said he would for sure."

"Still, you freaked me out," she said. She slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't do that!"

"All right, I promise. No more freaking you out." He rubbed his shoulder as if it pained him, even though Selphie's slap was harmless.

By then, the quad was nearly empty. Irvine looked at Selphie. "You know, now's probably the best time to talk to the Headmaster. Before he gets caught up in something and doesn't have time for us."

"Oh right! Thanks, Irvy!" Selphie said. She hopped up onto the stage. Irvine climbed up after her. Their footsteps echoed on the hollow floor. Squall, the Headmaster, and the others were arranged in a loose circle, talking to each other. Xu was reading something aloud from a clipboard in her hand.

"Nice speech, Squall," Irvine said, tipping his hat. Squall shrugged. Irvine and Selphie squeezed their way into the circle next to the Headmaster, interrupting whatever Xu had been saying. She glared at the two, but didn't say anything.

"Hey, Headmaster!" Selphie said, waving her arms as if he was standing across the room, rather than right beside her. The chain connecting her nunchaku rattled in her hand. "Can we talk real quick?"

"Sure," Cid said. "Nothing is going to happen until we get back to Balamb anyway, so I've got some time to spare."

"It'll just be a sec," Irvine said.

"Yeah, we just wanna ask if we can go to Trabia Garden," Selphie said.

Cid raised his eyebrows. "Trabia?" he said. "For a visit, I guess?"

"Um… yeah… sorta," Selphie said. "More like a long visit. Like a vacation."

"Not a vacation," Irvine corrected. "We want to help with the reconstruction. So it's not like we'll just be sitting around, sunning ourselves on the beach or nothing. We'll be working while we're there."

Cid wrinkled his face. "I don't know if now is the best time," he said. "We may not be in any battles at the moment, but that won't last forever. We'll have missions waiting for us when we get back. We always do. Not to mention how many chores we have to take of around here to get Garden back in fighting condition."

"There's even _more_ that needs to be taken care of in Trabia!" Selphie said. "I mean, you guys saw it. Whatever needs to be done here needs to be done in Trabia too, _but even more_. And, you know, if you ever need us, we'll come back. We swear! Please?"

"You have our word," Irvine said, raising his hand and showing his palm.

"Well," Cid said. "To tell the truth, I was hoping you two would be interested in administrative positions here. We have a lot of spaces to fill, and not too many able SeeDs to fill them. At least, few that I can trust as much as you all."

"Administration?" Irvine said. "Do we look like desk jockeys?"

"Yeah!" Selphie said. "I don't wanna be a stuffy teacher or anything."

"There's more to it than that," Quistis said. She crossed her arms. "I know it doesn't look it, but we're still dealing with the fallout that happened when NORG tried to oust Headmaster Cid. Yes, a lot of people sided with the Headmaster… but also a lot of people didn't. Part of the reason we're doing all this—the speeches, the uniforms, the promotions— is to re-establish our authority in Garden, and convince everyone to follow our lead again. We can't start splintering our group just yet. It'd weaken us politically."

"Ugh. Politics," Irvine said. "Count us out."

"Unpleasant, but necessary," Xu said. "You two are strong, well-liked, and respected followers of the Headmaster. Your presence here is valuable to the cause. Especially now that SeeD is going to be moving somewhat away from the lucrative mercenary business. Many students are not interested in idealism or world peace, but only want to line their pockets. This change will be difficult for them to accept."

Selphie looked at the others, then slouched. "So you're not going to let us go?"

"I'm afraid you're needed here," Cid said. "I'm sorry. Maybe in a few months, when things have calmed down. But now… I don't think it's wise. We're in transition, you see."

Irvine wasn't sure why Selphie had first brought up the idea of going back to Trabia a few days ago, but ever since then it became something of an obsession for her. Irvine looked at Selphie. Her shoulders were down, her knees sagging. Even her hair seemed to droop. The manic feral child from the training center was gone. The energy of the girl who shouted her misguided defiance at the Headmaster in the middle of his speech had vanished.

Selphie dreamed big, but big dreams were often the most fragile.

(Wait… I think I have an idea.)

"Hear us out, Headmaster," Irvine said. He pointed his finger and thumb, making his hand look like a pistol. "I think I have a solution. You said you were making new job openings and filling them with SeeDs, right?"

"Yes," Cid said.

"Well, what about making two new slots for, let's say… Ambassadors to Trabia?" Irvine said. "Think about it. Part of the problem we've been having is that the three Gardens don't communicate very well. G-Garden is off who knows where, and Trabia is hidden away in the mountains like a refugee. As long as we're separated, we're vulnerable. Just think of the battle between G-Garden and us. All it took was one crazy sorceress to set us all on each other like dogs. No offense, Matron."

"None taken," Edea said.

"If we're going to be changing Garden's mission," Irvine said, "Then we should work to get all the Gardens on board too, don't you think? I'm sure Trabia would like to be part of the new face of SeeD, you know? Especially if we're moving towards peace, not conflict. But to do that, we'd need someone to coordinate the two Gardens, right?"

(Wow, it almost sounds like I know what I'm talking about.)

Irvine was running out of things to say, so he decided to wrap up with a soundbite and hope the message stuck. "If you guys wanna play politics, then wouldn't linking the Gardens be one of the best political moves possible? Getting allies from Trabia can't hurt, right?"

To Irvine's delight, his words forced everyone to pause and think. Even Squall crossed his arms and was looking off into the distance, mulling over Irvine's words. Irvine knew he could be persuasive when he wanted to be, but he never thought he'd be able to pull out a speech like that off the top of his head.

(I still impress me sometimes.)

"I'm not sure…" Cid said. He paused. "But you might have a point."

Edea smiled warmly. "I think it's a wonderful idea, Irvine," she said. "I've always wanted the three Gardens to act more as a group, rather than as three separate units. And, admittedly, the other two Gardens have gotten a bit out of our reach in the past few years. Uniting them all under one cause can only strengthen us as whole."

"Exactly," Irvine said, pointing to Edea. He turned to Squall. "So how's about it? Can our Commander spare two of his soldiers for a little while?"

Squall frowned. "I'd rather have you both here. But… having Trabia's support will help us in the long run. I guess… I guess it's fine."

"WOO HOO!" Selphie cheered. She leapt into the air. Irvine pumped his fist.

"But," Squall interrupted. He held up a hand to get their attention. "But if you're going to be ambassadors, then I expect you to establish a reliable communications link between us and Trabia. No point in having ambassadors if they can't talk to us. So that's your first priority."

"As you say, Commander," Irvine said. He saluted. Selphie did the same.

"Since the fall of Adel's Tomb," Xu said, "Radio communications have opened back up. Trabia might have some old radio equipment from years ago. If they do, then that's an easy way for us to communicate."

Cid rubbed the back of his head. "That's… uncertain. Many radios haven't done well with the seventeen years of disuse. That is if any of their equipment survived the blast. And we don't have anything here to receive a transmission, even if they do get it working."

"But it's still worth a try," Xu said. "We can probably figure something out on our end."

"Yes, of course," Cid said.

"So, just to be clear," Selphie said, "We're gonna go to Trabia for sure, right?"

Cid nodded. "I authorize this trip, and appoint you two as the official Ambassadors to Trabia. You will report to either myself or to Squall with any and all pertinent news relating to Trabia and their rebuilding project. You will also work to foster ties between our two Gardens and ensure a harmonious and mutually beneficial relationship between Balamb and Trabia. Is that understood?"

"WOO HOO!" Selphie said, leaping in the air again. "Thank you so much! And yeah, it's totally understood!"

"Understood," Irvine said, nodding and tipping his hat to the Headmaster.

"Well that's two positions filled already," Cid said. "I'd say we're off to a good start. We'll discuss the details a little later."

"I'm gonna go start packing!" Selphie said. She spun around and raced off the edge of the platform, hitting the quad floor running. She took the stairs out of the quad two at a time.

"… And I'm going to go keep an eye on her," Irvine said. He nodded to the others. "Excuse me."

He turned and followed after Selphie, keeping up his steady walking pace. As a rule, he only ran when absolutely necessary. Running went against his persona.

He went up the steps of the quad, into the main hall, and then across to the dormitories. Before he entered the dorms, he did another quick self-examination. Hair, clothes, hat. Check, check, and check. He went to Selphie's room and found the door ajar. She was inside, tearing through her dresser drawers and packing everything into a green duffel bag.

Irvine crossed his arms and leaned on the inside of the doorframe. He smiled.

"That was close," he said. "They almost didn't let us go."

"I know!" Selphie said, looking up at Irvine. "I was totally gonna cry. But you did it, Irvy! Did I mention how hard you rock?"

Irvine shrugged. "Oh, it was nothing," he said. "I knew how important it was to you, so I had to do something. I couldn't let them keep you here just because of some stupid politics thing."

"You were _awesome_!" Selphie said. She stopped packing for a moment and ran up to him. She enclosed him in a tremendous bear hug, pinning his arms against his sides.

"Oof!" Irvine said. Her hug was more painful than any of the slaps she'd laid on him that day. Her arms, frightfully strong despite her tiny frame, compressed Irvine's lungs like a vise. He tried his best to return the embrace, but with his arms trapped between Selphie's, all he could do was get his forearms on Selphie's back and squeeze lightly.

She drew back from the hug a fraction and looked up into Irvine's eyes and smiled. Her hair was a mess, her face still lined with streaks of green. Before Irvine could say anything, Selphie said, "Tee-hee," and released him. She spun around and dove back into her duffel bag.

He watched her pack, and wondered if he should have said anything when they'd hugged. He decided no, it was better having not said anything at that time. Selphie was going to make her own decisions. When she was ready for things to move forward, she would let him know somehow. All he had to do was stay with her, and keep supporting her. Forcing the situation would only drive her away.

(Selphie's an exception to everything. The same old rules just don't apply to her.)

Irvine smiled. "I guess I should go start getting ready too. See ya, Selphie."

"Yeah! We gotta leave as soon as possible!" Selphie said, only briefly looking up.

Irvine nodded, tipped his hat, and turned around. His visitor's dorm was in a separate hallway from the main SeeD dorms. As he walked, he noticed that some of the plant matter from Selphie's clothes had rubbed off on his, leaving a green smear on his shirt. He looked messy, and uncool.

And that was okay.


	3. Chapter 3: I, Quistis Trepe

_**Chapter 3**_

_**I, Quistis Trepe**_

(Quistis)

A SeeD in full uniform set a cloth sack at Quistis' feet, then turned and headed back towards the front gate. Quistis bent over and unknotted the top of the sack and looked inside.

"First aid kits," Quistis said. She began pulling the white plastic boxes out of the bag and organizing them in stacks of five. When she'd emptied the bag, one stack was shorter than the others. "Twenty four in total," she said.

Xu nodded, then wrote that figure down on her clipboard. "Twenty four first aid kits." Using the end of her pen, she pointed at two cadets that were awaiting orders. "They go to the infirmary. Dr. Kadowaki will tell you where to put them."

"Ma'am," both cadets said. Quistis handed the empty bag to one of them, as the other began loading the kits back into it. When it was full, they carried the sack down the walkway towards the infirmary.

From down the hall, another uniformed SeeD approached, carrying two red fuel containers, one in each hand.

"I got fuel here," he said.

"Set it by the directory," Xu said, pointing to the large, colorful map of Balamb Garden that was a few paces behind her. "Is there any more?"

"Yeah," the SeeD said. He grunted as he set the cans down. "Probably a whole 'nother car full."

"Bring it all out so that we can count it," Xu said. "Then bring it to the parking lot."

"Ma'am," the SeeD said. He turned and headed back to the front gate.

Quistis looked down the hall and around her. Most of the items that had been brought in from outside had already been opened and inventoried, and the stream of SeeDs and cadets hauling in new supplies was becoming sparser and more intermittent. Those who were still working were mostly bringing in red gas cans and setting them down in a cluster by the directory.

"So, Quistis," Xu said. She looked up from her clipboard. "Planning on applying for any of the admin positions?"

Quistis shrugged. She adjusted the collar of her uniform. "I'm not sure. I'll wait until the complete list is up before I make up my mind."

"C'mon, Q," Xu said. "It's a waste of your talents to be just a SeeD. You should at least look into being an instructor again."

"I've thought about it," Quistis said. She stepped over to a bag near the edge of the walkway. She unknotted the top and peered inside. She was confused for a moment when she saw only more cloth inside the bag, then she realized that it was new bed sheets for the dormitories. She counted them out and gave the tally to Xu. Another SeeD brought the sack to the dorms.

"How about you?" Quistis asked. "Applying for anything?"

"Already did," Xu said. "Executive Supply Officer."

Quistis raised an eyebrow. "You _want_ to keep doing this inventory stuff?"

"It suits me," Xu said. "And I've been doing it since Garden went mobile. I figured, you know, why not?"

A SeeD carrying gas tanks walked up to Xu. He set them down in the cluster of fuel tanks. "This is the last of them."

Xu nodded. She added the total number of cans and marked it on her clipboard. "Thirty units of gasoline. Okay, bring it all to the parking lot. You know where they go?"

"Ma'am," the SeeD said, nodding. He picked up some cans and, with the help of a few other SeeDs, began carrying them back to the parking lot.

"If that's what you want," Quistis said to Xu.

"There's more to it than just doing inventory," Xu said. "Besides, it looks good on a resume. Sounds very professional."

"As if being a member of SeeD didn't already look good enough," Quistis said.

"Hey, prospective employers need to know that I can do more than just kick ass," Xu said. "I can kick ass and take inventory."

Quistis smiled.

There was a loud thump behind her that made her jump. She spun around to see Selphie standing in the walkway, her overstuffed duffel bag resting on the ground where she had dropped it. She looked out of place in her bright yellow civilian clothes, amidst a cloud of black and blue uniforms.

"Can I go yet?" Selphie asked.

"I hadn't heard anything from the Headmaster," Quistis said. Selphie sighed.

"And the Headmaster is the one you should be asking about this, not us," Xu said. "We're not in charge of releasing you."

"But the Headmaster is _busy_," Selphie said. "And you guys said you'd help me."

"We've been inventorying the new supplies all morning, Selphie," Quistis said.

"That's not helping me at all!" Selphie said.

"Sorry, Selphie," Xu said. "But getting you and Irvine to Trabia is not a big priority right now."

"Why _not_?" Selphie asked. "We have important stuff to do too!"

Xu sighed. "The faster we finish inventory, the sooner we can help you."

"Fine," Selphie said. "I can help! What do you need?"

"We need someone to dispose of the empty crates and bags," Xu said. "They're starting to block the walkway."

"Gotcha," Selphie said. She picked up all the stray bags littering the floor and tossed them into a nearby wooden crate. Then she bent over and picked up the crate, leaning back and balancing it on her chest. It was bulky, but since it was only stuffed with straw and cloth bags, it was lightweight. "Where d'ya want it?"

"The dumpsters outside," Xu said.

Selphie turned and headed out towards the front gate, leaving a trail of straw behind her.

The previous afternoon, the Garden had docked in its usual spot: a giant crater where it had sat for years before becoming mobile. Selphie had been under the impression that she and Irvine were free to go as soon as they made land. They'd been halfway to the front gate, bags slung over their shoulders, before Xu found them and stopped them.

There was no precedent for an ambassador to Trabia, and the details of the position had not been formally worked out or agreed upon. Furthermore, Quistis still had objections about whether or not it was wise to send them away at all. While her opinion was respected and heard, it was not heeded. The Headmaster agreed to write up the contract as quickly as possible, but one thing led to another, and now it was almost twenty-four hours later and there still was no contract.

During that time, Selphie had been relentless, carrying her duffel bag with all her possessions everywhere she went, as if she would only had a few seconds to leave the Garden once she'd been given the signal. She complained to anyone who would listen, hoping someone would be able to authorize her release. Even Irvine, who normally shadowed her everywhere, had gotten bored and wandered off to wait until someone called him.

(I wonder if she even slept last night.)

Selphie worked like a machine, removing the crates one by one until the hallway was cleared.

"Done," Selphie said. She wiped a thin haze of sweat from her forehead. "Can we go now?"

Xu was busy writing notes on her clipboard. "Okay, we got everything we need and then some. We'll have to send out another group to get some more stuff in a day or two, but all the urgent supplies are here."

"That's good," Quistis said.

"Hey!" Selphie said. She waved her arms. "Does that mean we're done?"

"Yes, Selphie," Xu said with a smile. "We're done with inventory. We'll go with you to talk to the Headmaster. We're heading that way anyway."

"Yes! Finally!" Selphie said.

"There's no guarantee that we'll be able to speed up the process though," Quistis said.

"Don't be such a downer, Quisty," Selphie said. She walked towards the main elevator. On the way, she picked up her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. Quistis and Xu followed a pace behind.

"Selphie, mind if I ask you a question?" Quistis asked.

"Shoot," Selphie said, glancing over her shoulder.

"Why do you want to go to Trabia so badly?" Quistis asked. "Aren't you happy here?"

"I'm happy!" Selphie said. She smiled broadly. "I really like it here. I'm just… I think there's more I can do in Trabia than here, you know?"

"Follow-up question," Quistis said. She raised the corners of her mouth into a smile. "Why does _Irvine_ want to go so badly?"

Selphie gulped. She climbed the steps up to the elevator. She arrived and pushed the button to call the next car. Quistis stood next to Selphie, still smiling. Xu stood behind her, smirking as well.

"It's um…" Selphie said. "He just wants to help. And it's not like he can go back to Galbadia anymore."

Xu and Quistis exchanged a glance. "That's it?" Xu asked. "He just wants to help?"

"I don't know what Irvine thinks," Selphie said. "I can't read minds. He said he wanted to go with, so he's going with. I didn't ask why."

"But Trabia isn't his home," Quistis said. "You're the only reason he'd want to go."

With a hum and a ding, the elevator arrived.

"ELEVATOR'S HERE!" Selphie shouted. The doors opened, and she almost leapt inside. Xu and Quistis followed her in. The doors shut behind them and Selphie pushed the button for the third floor.

"You didn't really answer my question," Quistis said.

"No talking in the elevators!" Selphie said. "Do I have to report you?"

"That's not a Garden rule," Xu said. "The library, classrooms, and Cid's office are the only places where speaking rights are limited."

"Be honest. Are you and Irvine getting serious?" Quistis asked.

Selphie adjusted her duffel bag strap on her shoulder. Quistis could see that the fingers of her free hand were fidgeting. Selphie sighed, her voice dropping to a normal, soft tone.

"No," Selphie said. "We're just friends. Irvine is nice… but he's just a friend."

"Really?" Xu said.

"Honest!" Selphie said, her voice cracking.

(You two seem like a lot more than just friends.)

Quistis decided not to press the issue.

The elevator dinged again and arrived at the third floor. The doors opened up into a red-carpeted receiving room. Directly ahead of the elevator doors was an ornately-carved set of golden double doors that led into Cid's office. Lining the walls next to the door were a handful of red leather chairs where students could sit until the Headmaster was ready to admit them.

Once Balamb had become mobile, Squall and his friends had received something of a standing invitation to Cid's office. Still, Xu chose to knock on the doors out of courtesy. Cid's voice called, "Come in!" from inside. Xu pushed open the doors and the three stepped inside.

The Headmaster's office was a wide, marble-floored room with a domed glass ceiling, allowing the sunlight to pour in. Dominating the middle of the room was a massive steel pillar, atop which was the Garden's mobile control center and bridge. The bridge stopped only a short distance from the glass ceiling. A small lift—barely more than a metal slab—jutted out from the side of the pillar, ready to bring personnel from up from Cid's office to the bridge.

Next to the pillar was Cid's desk, a blonde wooden desk covered in papers. Cid sat hunched over his desk, scribbling something on a paper. His wife, Edea, leaned over his shoulder, reading another paper on his desk.

Selphie crossed the marble floor, her boots thumping and echoing. She dropped her duffel bag with a crash, then saluted the Headmaster. Xu and Quistis stood on either side of Selphie and also saluted.

"At ease," the Headmaster said. He looked over his glasses at the three girls. They relaxed their stances. "How's the resupply going, Xu?"

"It's done, Headmaster," Xu said. "We were able to procure all the supplies on our list, plus some additional luxuries, and we're still slightly under budget. A few of our SeeDs were able to buy direct from the shippers, which saved us quite a bit of money."

"Excellent," Cid said. "May I see the report?"

Xu stepped forward and put her clipboard on the table. She stepped back in line with Quistis and Selphie while Cid skimmed over her chart. Selphie began to bounce on the toes of her boots. Edea finished reading the paper on Cid's desk and smiled at the girls.

"Very good," Cid said, putting the clipboard to the side. He noticed Selphie's behavior and raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you would like to ask, Selphie?"

"Umm… I just wanted to know if you were done writing up our contract," Selphie said. "So that Irvine and me could leave. For Trabia. As ambassadors. Like we said. Headmaster. Please?"

"As a matter of fact," Cid said. He searched through his papers. "Ah, here it is. Yes, I have both of your contracts written up. If you would just read and sign them…"

"WOO-HOO!" Selphie said. She bounded to Cid's desk. "You got a pen?"

Cid pulled back the contracts and eyed Selphie. "I said _read_ and sign them. Not just grab the nearest pen and scribble your name on them thoughtlessly. You are official Ambassadors for Balamb Garden, and I want you to fully understand the duties and expectations we demand of you. You will conduct yourself in a manner befitting to SeeD. Understood?"

Selphie cleared her throat and straightened up. She saluted again, crisply. "Yes, Headmaster. Sorry, Headmaster."

"The contracts specifically state that this arrangement can be canceled by me at any time, for any reason," Cid said. "So you two had better behave yourselves if you want to keep your positions."

"Yes, Headmaster," Selphie said. The Headmaster nodded, and she bent over and began reading her contract.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Selphie was a SeeD. With her seemingly infinite energy and low discipline, she could pass as an ordinary, hyperactive teenage girl. But standing there, her eyes and body focused and alert, Quistis was reminded how determined and professional she could be, when she chose.

(It's almost like there's two Selphies.)

Behind them, they could hear the elevator ding. A few seconds later, the door opened just a crack. Quistis and Xu turned to look, and saw Zell's blonde hair and tattooed face poking through the open door. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw everyone in the room. He started to back out.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll come back later."

"No, it's fine," Cid said. He waved him in. "Come in, Zell."

Zell pushed open the door and crossed the room, stopping alongside Quistis and Xu. He saluted quickly. He looked around at the situation, and saw Selphie leaning over Cid's desk, intently reading the paper in front of her.

"Oh, Selphie's contract is finished?" Zell asked.

"Yep!" Selphie said. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Zell. "Finally going to Trabia!"

Zell smiled back and gave her a thumbs-up. "Well, good luck to ya!"

"Thanks!" She returned to the contract.

"Selphie," Quistis said. "I don't want to tell you what to do, but I really think you should consider staying. At least for a little while. You can always go to Trabia later."

"Quistis!" Selphie said, turning around. "You're supposed to be _helping me_! That's what I brought you here for!"

"I just think there's a lot of confusion at Garden still," Quistis said. "The past few weeks have been very hectic and disorganized. I think we should get everything in order and make sure everyone's on the same page before we start sending people away."

"That's what you've been sayin'," Selphie said. "But Trabia needs help too. And I'm gonna help them."

Quistis sighed. She shrugged. "Well, I had to say something."

Selphie turned back to her contract. Cid watched her for a moment, then spoke up.

"Selphie, was there anything else you wished to discuss besides the contract?" he asked.

"No, not really," Selphie said.

"Okay then. No sense in reading it all right here," Cid said. "Take your contract and Irvine's. Make sure that you both read them thoroughly and agree with all the points. Then sign them and return them to me. Once you've done that, then I will release you to Trabia. Understood?"

Selphie saluted again. "Yes, Headmaster."

"You are dismissed," Cid said.

Selphie spun around, snatching up the two contracts in one hand. She picked up her duffel bag and went at a near sprint for the elevator. A second later, the elevator dinged, admitting Selphie inside, and she was gone in search of Irvine.

The Headmaster turned to Xu and Quistis. "Was there anything else you two were meaning to discuss?"

Quistis shook her head. "Nothing as of now, Headmaster."

"Actually," Xu said, "Quistis is interested in seeing what positions are available in administration."

Quistis opened her mouth to object, but decided against it.

(No harm in at least seeing what's available, I guess.)

"Uh, I'm here about that too," Zell said, raising his right hand a little bit. "I just wanted to see what's open, you know? I don't know if I'll take anything yet."

"Excellent," Cid said. He clapped his hands once and leaned forward. "Edea and I haven't compiled the full list yet, I'm afraid. We're restructuring SeeD a bit. Some jobs need to be removed, others need to be created. You understand. But we were hoping that you—both of you—would express interest in administrative jobs. We have specifically set aside two positions for you two. If you accept these positions now, they're yours. If you decline, we will post them along with the rest of the available staff positions, and someone else will take the jobs. Are you interested in hearing about them?"

"Of course," Quistis said.

"Yeah!" Zell said.

"All right," Cid said. "Zell, let's start with you. Squall's report of the incident at the D-District Prison in Galbadia—to which you two were present—has revealed a flaw in our training."

"Headmaster?" Zell said, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

Cid continued. "We have spent a great deal of time encouraging diversity in weapon specialization, to increase our overall strength and capabilities. However, in situations where SeeDs are unable to use their weapons or their magic, then hand-to-hand combat is essential. Therefore, we are going to instate a mandatory hand-to-hand combat training course for all cadets, and we would like you to head up that class, as a Combat Instructor."

Zell pointed to himself. "Me? Combat Instructor?"

"Of course," Cid said. "You'll have to pass the requisite Instructor's test, as well as a follow-up to ensure that you are skilled enough to handle the position. But I doubt either of those will be a problem for you."

"Yeah…" Zell said, scratching the back of his head. "Heh… tests. My favorite."

"Do you accept?" Cid asked.

"I don't know if I'm the guy for the job," Zell said. He shifted his weight. "I mean, I know a lot about fightin', but I don't know if I'm really a teacher type…"

"I can help you with that," Quistis said. "In my experience, knowledge of the material is the most important thing. If you understand the material and try your hardest, you'll learn the rest. Don't worry. "

"Umm… sure, I guess," Zell said. "I'll still get to go on missions, right? Or at least get outside every now and then. I don't wanna be in Garden all the time. No offense."

"Like Squall said yesterday morning," Cid said, "You're all going to be SeeDs first. When missions come up, we will give them to the SeeDs most able to accomplish them. So, yes, you will still have opportunities to join in missions."

"All right," Zell said. "Sounds like a deal."

"We'll go over the details in a moment," Cid said. "Quistis, I have a special job offer for you."

"I'd like to hear it, Headmaster," Quistis said. She adjusted her feet and straightened herself up.

"Right now there is a very large authority gap between Squall and the rest of SeeD," Cid said. "That is a poor long-term model for running any army or military organization. Should Squall be indisposed for whatever reason, he has no clear successor. So Edea and I are working on creating incremental steps between ordinary SeeDs and the SeeD Commander. One of these positions will be that of Lieutenant Commander, which I offer to you."

Quistis gaped. "Lieutenant Commander?" she said. "You mean, second in command to Squall?"

"Exactly," Cid said.

"That's… that's more than I was expecting, Headmaster," Quistis said. She cleared her throat and glanced at Xu. "I would think Xu would be a better choice, wouldn't you?"

"I'm actually the one who recommended you," Xu said. "When I signed up to be Executive Supply Officer, they were talking about potential candidates for the job, and I said you should be at the top of the list."

(So she knew about the job before she even brought me here…)

"And I heartily agree with Xu's recommendation," Cid said.

"But… Headmaster," Quistis said. She struggled to find the words to express her thoughts. No words came to mind, but the image of her alone, with all of Garden watching her, waiting for her command, kept forcing its way into her mind. "I was released from my Instructor duties only a few weeks ago. And now you offer me the position of second in command for all of SeeD? I-I don't see how… It doesn't make sense."

"The decision to fire you was not mine," Cid said. He leaned back in his chair. "And I opposed it as best I could. NORG and the Garden Faculty were the ones who thought you were unfit to be an Instructor, not me. And believe me when I say your dismissal was for political reasons, not because of anything you did or did not do."

"Political reasons?" Quistis said.

"Yes," Headmaster Cid said. He sighed. "Things between NORG and I were getting ugly long before the internal battle broke out in Garden. He thought that you had too many fans among the student body, and that you would not be… I believe he used the word 'obedient.' So he dismissed you to ruin your credibility."

(Fans among the students? What is he… Oh…)

"You mean the Trepies?" Quistis said. She shrugged. "They're just a little fan club."

"NORG didn't see it that way, I'm afraid," Cid said. "He saw organizations like that to be a threat to his power base. He even had his eye on the Garden Festival Club, if you can believe it." Cid chuckled, but no one else in the room joined him. He cleared his throat and continued. "He wanted total control over Garden. NORG was quite paranoid in his last days. And you were, I'm sorry to say, a casualty of his delusions."

"I see…" Quistis said.

Her thoughts ran over the implications of what she'd been told. And with each thought, with

each mental connection, a new emotion rose within her. She didn't know if she was angry, hurt, offended, ashamed, or disappointed. Somehow, she was all of those things at once, and yet none of them at the same time. Nor did she know where to direct those feelings. At NORG, for dismissing her? At herself, for not being stronger? At Cid, for being unable to stop it?

She could understand being dismissed for her failures. When the Garden Faculty had told her that she was being dismissed for her lack of leadership, she had accepted their decision. It had been painful, but understandable. But then to learn that there was no reason, that she had lost her position and her dreams because of the former Garden Master's fear and jealousy? It didn't make sense.

"Man, NORG was evil," Zell said. "I can't believe we never knew about this stuff before."

Cid waved his hand. "NORG and the Garden Faculty are in the past," he said. "Now things are as they should be. It is my decision that matters, and I believe you would be a great person to have as Lieutenant Commander, in part _because_ of your fan club. People who have fan clubs are people who naturally inspire followers. These students go out of their way just to show their admiration of you. That is a rare thing."

Quistis came out of her head for a moment to reply to the Headmaster. "To be honest…" she said. "I would have been happy just taking an Instructor position again. Or maybe something like Xu's position. But… Lieutenant Commander? That is so much more than I was hoping for."

"Maybe more than you were hoping for," Cid said, "But not, I believe, more than you are capable of."

(I don't know if I can do this.)

(Is this how Squall felt?)

"Can I be given time to think about it?" Quistis asked.

Cid waved his hand. "Of course. I ask only that you return to me with a decision in the next few days or so. I'd like to begin preparing you—or someone else, if you refuse—while we still have some relative peace and quiet in the world."

"Yes, Headmaster," Quistis said, bowing slightly.

"I think your dismissal hurt your self-image," Xu said. "You doubt yourself too much, Q."

"Yeah, Quistis," Zell said. "I mean, if I can be a Combat Instructor, then you can be Lieutenant Commander no problem."

"You are greater than you think you are," Edea said. "Believe in yourself."

Quistis smiled at her friends, and sighed gently.

(But sometimes… wisdom means knowing when not to step forward.)

"Thank you for the opportunity," Quistis said. "I'm honored. I'm just…"

Cid nodded sympathetically. "I understand," he said. "Think it over. You'll realize you're ready. I'm sure of it. Now, if there's no more business to attend to, I'd like to brief Zell on his position, and get his contract signed and all that busywork taken care of."

Quistis and Xu saluted, then turned and left the office. As they left, Zell stepped forward to Cid's desk and the Headmaster began filling him in on all the duties that would be expected of him. They entered the receiving area and shut the door behind them. Xu crossed the room, pushed the button to call an elevator, then looked at Quistis.

"I'm pretty sure the girl who traveled across time and saved the world from an all-powerful sorceress is good enough for SeeD's second-in-command," Xu said. "But hey, what do I know?"

Quistis grimaced and looked away. "Ultimecia wasn't all-powerful," she said. "And I wasn't alone. The others helped me as much as I helped them."

"Still," Xu said. "Most other SeeDs brag for days after doing delivery and reconnaissance missions. No one can compete with your experiences. Not even me. I have no idea the type of things you've been through."

The elevator arrived with a ding and opened its doors. The two stepped inside. Xu pushed the button for the first floor. After a moment, Quistis leaned over and pushed the button for the second floor.

"Not going with me for lunch?" Xu asked.

"Not hungry," Quistis said. The elevator doors shut, and it began to move. "Also, I'd like to be alone for a bit."

"You mean you don't want me to keep telling you how great you'd be as Lieutenant Commander?"

"I'm sorry," Quistis said. "But I'd like to make the decision on my own."

Xu shrugged. "I understand."

The elevator descended to the second floor. Quistis stepped out as soon as the doors opened. She turned around and smiled weakly. "Thank you for your support. It means a lot to me."

Before the doors could close, Xu reached out a hand and held them open.

"Listen," Xu said. "Before you go. The Headmaster didn't want to say anything, I guess because he didn't want to pressure you, but there's a reason he's been offering high ranking positions to you guys first, and why he's been so willing to compromise with you."

"I know," Quistis said. "He trusts us. But there's more to it than that. I can't lead people just on trust alone."

(And just because he trusts us, doesn't mean he's necessarily _right_ to trust us.)

Xu shook her head and said, "Maybe the Headmaster can find someone who has more leadership experience than you. But you guys, you, Squall, and the others, you've been through a lot with the Headmaster and with Edea. He trusts you with his life, and he trusts you with Garden's future. He knows that you share his vision of what Garden could be, what it _should_ be. I know you're not sure if you can hack it, but if you stand by and let someone else have all the power, then you may not like the decisions they make. That's the way I see it."

Xu stepped back into the elevator and released the glass door. It slid shut. Xu's silhouette was just visible through the blue glass, holding Quistis' gaze. The elevator sunk down to the first floor, leaving Quistis alone on the walkway.

She sighed.

Quistis walked forward, heading towards the room that used to be her classroom. The door leading inside was closed, the window peering in was darkened. She turned the knob, but of course, the door was locked. In all the rush and excitement of the past days, she'd forgotten than all of the classrooms were not in use and wouldn't be until at least tomorrow. She stopped just outside the door and crossed her arms. The hallway was empty. It wasn't as private as she wanted, but it was private enough.

She leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes.

She regretted leaving Xu behind. Xu was doing nothing but trying to help her, and Quistis shrugged her off. Xu was a friend, but that was part of the problem. Because Xu was a friend, her opinion was colored. Was Quistis truly fit to lead, or did everyone think so only because they were her friends? Quistis couldn't be sure.

(Lieutenant Commander Quistis Trepe…)

Only a few weeks ago, she would have accepted the offer instantly. It would have been the culmination of all of her hard work; the reward she'd been chasing for years. But things had changed.

She had joined SeeD in her early teens, showing immediate promise and earning high marks and high praise from her superiors. At only seventeen years of age, she became one of the youngest instructors in the history of SeeD, teaching classes on World History and SeeD Protocol to cadets.

In this time, she accrued a group of dedicated fans, called the "Trepies," a play on her last name. Though she was flattered by this indirect compliment, she always held the suspicion that her fans singled her out for her physical appearance, rather than her mental or teaching acumen. She was only eighteen, and she knew her age and looks contributed to her popularity. In a field composed mostly of old or married men and women, a young, single instructor was bound to draw attention.

(Although there are a number of girls in my fan club too, so it can't be all physical attraction…)

But after her rise to Instructor, everything seemed to stall. It felt as though she had reached the limit of her talent. She continued to learn and develop, and had been studying a new subject—Game Theory—with the intent of teaching it come the next semester, but that was it. After several consecutive years of constantly climbing upward, it seemed she had finally reached the top, only to find that the summit was lower than she'd hoped. The praise from her superiors was less frequent, awards and honors came rarely, if at all, and the size of her fan base plateaued at only a small core of devotees.

During this time, she'd been called into the main office, where a member of the Garden Faculty informed her that she had been dismissed as an Instructor, effective immediately. When she asked why, the staff member told her that she lacked leadership skills and had failed her duties as Instructor.

(But the Headmaster said…)

Yes. Cid told her that her dismissal was a political move on NORG's part, not based on her performance, as she'd been led to believe. But regardless of the actual motive, she couldn't ignore the possibility that the Garden Faculty had a point. Maybe she did lack leadership skills.

In her mind, a leader was a person who inspired others to follow, a person of great charisma and character who people naturally obeyed. Quistis would be lying to herself if she thought she was that person. She learned all the material presented to her, overcame all the obstacles put in her path, but she did so mechanically, systematically. Even her teaching style could be called robotic, moving quickly though the facts, then drilling the students with frequent quizzes and tests. It was effective, but it wasn't inspiring.

But she had to admit, Squall did not fit her definition of a leader. He was not energetic or charismatic, yet people followed him, unquestioning. Maybe there was some intangible leadership quality that separated the great leaders from everyone else. A hidden force within their personalities that drove them beyond the sum of their experiences.

Maybe that was her problem. She had never been able to figure out the exact combination of characteristics that made Squall into the leader he became. If she couldn't even understand why people obeyed Squall, how could she hope to repeat his success?

She sighed and looked down the hallway. Still empty.

She wished she could be someone else for a while, a few days, maybe a week. Not to escape her life or rid herself of her burdens, but so that she could view herself from the outside, impartial, as the rest of the world saw her. How different was the Quistis the world knew and the Quistis she thought she was?

(What do people really think of me?)

And so she stood in thought. She soon realized, though, that all her reflection was only delaying her inevitable choice. No matter how much time she devoted to considering the subject, she would never be able to see herself through another's eyes. She would never know if the Headmaster saw her as she _was_, or as he _wished_ she was. This was a problem she could not solve logically, and she would have to depend on her feelings to know how to act.

And her feelings told her that the Headmaster was wrong to believe in her.

The next morning, Quistis and Xu went to the cafeteria. For dietary reasons, the cafeteria workers refused to serve hot dogs for breakfast, despite the near constant demand for them. A few years back, there had been a bit of a war between the cafeteria and the student body over this rule. Students began hoarding hot dogs in their rooms, so that they could eat them the next morning. This resulted in unsanitary living conditions, multiple cases of food poisoning, and a hot dog shortage.

(And the dorms always smelled of hot dogs…)

After a number of unsuccessful attempts at cracking down on hot dog hoarding, the cafeteria workers finally reached a compromise, creating a breakfast dish of scrambled eggs, syrup, and diced hotdogs, which they called "Dogg Eggs." The dish had resolved the issue in SeeD and stopped the hoarding, but Quistis had found both the name and the concept abhorrent and refused to even try them. Xu, an unrepentant hot dog addict, ordered a plate of Dogg Eggs, while Quistis had eggs and toast. With their respective plates in hand, the two found a table and sat down.

"You can't have hot dogs every meal," Quistis said. She looked at the ugly mess of syrupy yellow and brown chunks on Xu's plate and shuddered.

"Been living off them for years now," Xu said. "I haven't died yet."

"'Yet' being the key word here," Quistis said.

"Be quiet and eat your eggs, Q," Xu said. She shoved a forkful of Dogg Eggs into her mouth, a thin trail of syrup stretching from her fork to her plate. She licked her lip and the syrup string collapsed onto her plate. Quistis shuddered again. Xu smiled.

Every time that Quistis thought that SeeD was running out of things to do, Xu would pull out her list of objectives and reveal five, ten , or fifteen more things that needed to be done that day. The problems never seemed to end. Xu's job as Executive Supply Officer bled into a number of other areas, especially since there was such a manpower shortage in SeeD. Xu had all her regular duties, plus she was frequently called in to help fill any gaps and perform any duties that no one else had time for.

Quistis felt a little guilty, having not taken an administration job yet, so she'd assigned herself as Xu's assistant until she had a full time job herself. While she helped Xu, she took time to consider her job offer, but was no closer to sorting out her feelings. She realized that if she didn't respond soon, the position would automatically go to someone else.

(Maybe that would be the best. Save me the trouble of having to refuse the position.)

No, that was unfair to the Headmaster and unprofessional behavior. Whatever her decision was, she needed to deliver it to the Headmaster herself, as soon as possible.

As the two were finishing their meals, Zell came over to their table, carrying his own tray of Dogg Eggs. The lumpy mess wiggled atop the tray.

"Mind if I sit real quick?" Zell asked.

"Sure, but we were just leaving," Quistis said. "We've got a lot to do today."

"Won't take me long," Zell said. He dropped his plate onto the table with a clang and sat down hard into a chair. "So I was in the library, right?"

"Why were you in the library, Zell?" Quistis asked. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward with a grin.

Zell coughed. "Uh… you know… h-hanging out." He shoved a forkful of Dogg Eggs into his mouth and chewed to avoid having to answer the question. Quistis shrugged and let the issue go.

(I wonder why it always bothers him so much. We all know about the library girl. It's not a secret.)

(I guess it doesn't matter.)

"So um, Caraway, you remember him, right?" Zell said. He finished chewing and swallowed. "General Caraway?"

"I remember the General, yes," Quistis said. The memory of being locked in his drawing room and having to escape through the sewers was still fresh in her mind.

"He put out a video on cable late last night," Zell said. He punctuated each sentence with another quick forkful of food, speaking in between mouthfuls. "I think you guys should check it out. I just saw it a few minutes ago. It's causing a big fuss over in Timber. I was going to look into it more, but then I got hungry… so I didn't."

He shoveled in more food.

(He eats like he's being timed.)

"Is it something Rinoa should see?" Quistis asked.

"Rinoa? Why…" Zell said, with a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "Oh right. You know, I keep forgetting that she's Caraway's daughter. She might want to see it, now that I think about it."

"Want to go check it out?" Xu asked Quistis.

"Yes, I'm curious as to what he'd have to say," Quistis said. "Especially if it's got the people of Timber upset."

Quistis and Xu excused themselves and took their trays, leaving Zell alone to demolish the rest of his plate. He'd already cleared the majority of it in his short conversation. They set their trays on the rack above the garbage and headed across the Garden to the library.

Tucked in the far corner of the library were three rows of computer terminals, totaling fifteen functioning stations. Every terminal except two were taken. Xu rushed in to sit at the nearest available one. She pressed a key on the keyboard and the monitor turned on with a soft hum. Quistis leaned over Xu's shoulder to see the monitor more clearly.

All the computer terminals defaulted to the Garden's home page, which was dominated by in-school events. The recent policy changes and new code of conduct were displayed prominently. Across the top was a banner depicting a smiling male and female SeeD in full uniform, with the text, "Uniforms now mandatory on Garden property. Click for details." There was a link for the available administration positions, but only a handful had been posted so far.

There was also a link to the Garden's "News of the World" page, which Xu clicked. The monitor displayed a list of videos, images, and pages. Almost every link mentioned "Galbadia," "General Caraway," or "Timber," and most of the pictures showed the General's face, staring directly at the screen.

"Guess it's big news," Quistis said.

"No kidding," Xu said. She clicked on a link titled, "General Caraway Official Speech," with the previous day's date. The monitor switched to video format. Xu adjusted the volume to keep it from being too loud, and Quistis leaned in to hear.

In the video, General Caraway stood behind a wooden podium. On either side of the podium were two miniature Galbadian flags. Behind him was a topographical map of the world. He wore his full dress uniform, black, and adorned with the ribbons of his many honors and decorations. He wore white gloves, fingers laced and resting on the top of his desk. He waited a moment while the camera zoomed closer to his face, then began speaking.

"Citizens of Galbadia," Caraway said. "I am General Fury Caraway, commander of the Galbadian Army. I understand that the recent days and weeks have been tumultuous, confusing, and, on occasion, violent. For those of you who have been unable to stay abreast of the situation, I feel it necessary to provide you with a history of recent events.

"Less than a month ago, President Vizner Deling appointed a new ambassador to Galbadia, the Sorceress Edea. But she had ambitions beyond simply being an Ambassador. On the day of her appointment, she publicly assassinated President Deling and assumed control of Galbadia and our military. Her exact motives were—and still are—greatly shrouded in mystery, but her actions from there are well-known.

"Shortly after seizing control of the military, the Sorceress used our soldiers to canvass the world in search of a girl named Ellone. At the same time, she also launched an attack against the mercenary group SeeD, using both missiles and Galbadia Garden in her efforts to eradicate SeeD. What significance the girl Ellone had, or why SeeD posed such a threat to the sorceress, we may never know. All we know is, after a violent confrontation between Galbadia Garden and Balamb Garden, the Sorceress vanished, and is presumed to have been killed or captured by SeeD."

(He seems to know a lot about the situation, despite having not had much of a role in it.)

Caraway continued. "Her sudden disappearance is a weight off the shoulders of our nation, but it left us in a predicament. As you know, the Vice President under President Deling died of heart failure nearly a decade ago, and he was not replaced. Furthermore, President Deling dissolved his cabinet shortly after the last Sorceress War, leaving behind, upon his death, no clear line of succession for who should next rule Galbadia.

"Thus myself and the District Governors have seen fit to declare a temporary state of martial law upon the nation of Galbadia, until such time as we are able to elect a new President. That, in effect, makes me in charge of Galbadia for the duration. I assure you, I regret that it has come to this, and I eagerly await the day when I can hand off the reins of Galbadia to someone more suited than I, so that I may resume my duties as General. I wish to pass no laws, and effect no major changes during my stay. My sole desire is to maintain peace and order as we conduct a free and open election in Galbadia."

(An election in Galbadia? It'd be the first since before I was born.)

Caraway went on. "According to Galbadia's Constitution, we are not due for another election until this time next year. However, I do not want to wait that long and leave Galbadia in a state of uncertainty and military rule for an entire year. So we are conducting an election for a temporary President, who will serve in office until the next election cycle. Any natural-born Galbadian citizen over the age of forty may run for office. Applicants will be rigorously vetted by myself and the District Governors, to ensure that they are fit to lead our nation, and then we will begin hosting a series of debates between the candidates, to allow the people of Galbadia to better understand the people they are voting for, and to make an informed vote.

"Those interested in running for office may contact—"

Xu tapped a key to end the video. "I think we've got the gist of it."

Quistis crossed her arms. "It seems pretty innocuous. I wonder why Timber would be getting upset over this."

Xu shrugged. "Let's find out."

Timber's public broadcasts were already severely limited, and news from that area was hard to find. Galbadian intel specialists worked hard to clamp down on any transmissions, deleting all videos and posts about Timber's views and opinions. However, by scanning headlines and reading news sources from Dollet and other neighboring areas, it became clear why Timber was upset.

"I can see why they would take issue with this," Quistis said. "They are subjected to Galbadian rule, but aren't allowed to vote in the coming election. Even their speech is being limited. They can't so much as talk about the election publicly without repercussions."

"Well, they're not technically Galbadians," Xu said. "Not that I'm condoning Galbadia's behavior or anything…"

"Right," Quistis said. She paused for a moment, then went on. "But it seems that General Caraway has no intention of liberating Timber during his stay in office. That might be the biggest problem. He's just going to hand the government—and Timber's fate—over to another politician, and Timber can do nothing about it… It must be awful to feel so powerless."

"And because Timber can't influence the vote in any way," Xu said, "Then there's no incentive for any incumbent president to cater to their desires. No matter who gets elected, Timber is still going to be an occupied nation at the end of it all."

And in that instant, Quistis' confusion and doubt were replaced by a moment of absolute certainty. The moment of revelation she did not think was possible had come to her, and she knew what her next decision was.

"Can you find Rinoa and show her this video?" Quistis said.

"Sure," Xu said. "What about you? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to speak with the Headmaster," Quistis said, straightening up.

Xu raised her eyebrows. "Okay. See you later, Q."

Quistis turned and left the library, heading to the central elevator in the middle of Garden.

She did not believe in signs, or omens. Events in the world happened because of a combination of human intervention mixed with a bit of random chance. But nevertheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that the video had come to her in the moment of her greatest indecision and provided her with the answer she had been looking for. Everything about the situation in Galbadia and Timber seemed to parallel Quistis' current dilemma.

Deling's assassination, leaving Galbadia without a leader. Timber forced to sit by and watch as their future was sold away in an election they couldn't influence.

("If you stand by and let someone else have all the power, then you may not like the decisions they make.")

Maybe Timber couldn't influence the course of its fate, but Quistis certainly could influence her own, and that of SeeD. And as long as she had that power, she would use it. To discard it was a denial of everything she believed.

The elevator arrived, and Quistis rode it up to the third floor. The elevator released her to the Headmaster's receiving room. She crossed the red carpeted floors and knocked on the office door, hoping the Headmaster was in. Something about her epiphany demanded urgency, immediate action. Although it didn't actually matter, Quistis felt that she had to speak to the Headmaster as soon as possible.

"Come in," the Headmaster said. Quistis opened the door and stepped inside. Headmaster Cid's desk was, as usual, a mess of papers and files, but now he had added a computer monitor on top of the pile. He and Edea were examining the screen and sorting through it. Quistis approached his desk, saluted, then returned to the position of attention until the Headmaster greeted her.

"Hello, Quistis," Cid said. He turned to face her, smiling broadly. He folded his hands together and placed them on his desk. "Now, what can I help you with?"

"Have you seen General Caraway's video?" Quistis asked.

"Yes," Cid said. "I've been checking the cable all morning. I'm a bit of a news junkie, I must admit. And that video is almost inescapable."

(No point in drawing this out.)

Quistis took a deep breath. "I would like to accept the position you offered me," she said. "If you still want me, then I'll be your Lieutenant Commander."

Cid clapped. "Wonderful! My star pupils continue to shine! If I may ask, what caused you to reach this decision?"

She didn't hesitate. "Because I want to have a voice in determining SeeD's future," she said. "I want to work with Squall and the others to make sure that SeeD becomes everything it can be. Maybe I'm not the perfect one for the job, but I know my intentions are good. I know that I can and will be able to do anything and everything to help SeeD prosper."

"Well, let's not waste any time," Cid said. "Let's go over the details of the position, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4: Monster

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Monster**_

(Rinoa)

_Falling._

_ The Sorceress Adel is a giant, twice Rinoa's size. As Adel dies, her body collapses and her power, the power of a sorceress, flows into Rinoa. Rinoa's barely aware of accepting Adel's powers as the sorceress crumbles, her body breaking apart into dust. Rinoa falls from Adel's chest and lands hard on the floor. Her hands, elbows, and knees cry out at the sudden shock, but thankfully nothing is broken. Behind her, Adel continues to destruct, until there is nothing left of the sorceress that terrorized Esthar and the world for a generation._

_ Rinoa struggles to her feet. The world around her is green, glowing green with the rocky interior of the Lunatic Pandora. A green so bright it seems to hum. Rinoa knows what is coming. Denied the body of Adel, the Sorceress Ultimecia will take the next—and last—available substitute. Rinoa braces herself for the inevitable. _

_ Ultimecia doesn't come as a wave, or a slow, creeping power. She is instant, overwhelming, utterly irresistible. One moment Rinoa is standing, the ruins of the battle against Adel around her, her friends standing nearby. Squall, looking at her, his eyes both frantic and determined. The next, Rinoa is only a passenger in her own body. The power consumes her, as Ultimecia's mind and her endless, endless rage push Rinoa into a dark corner of her own consciousness. Rinoa is helpless._

_ "Ellone!" Laguna yells. "Now's your chance!"_

_ The name "Ellone" sparks a hint of recognition in Ultimecia's memory that Rinoa can feel course through her as if the thought were her own. A memory of a world-wide hunt; a target that escaped Ultimecia again and again. But the recognition does nothing to quell Ultimecia's fury. Instead, it only adds to it. _

_ Rinoa had always believed that she hated her father. That she hated Vizner Deling and the atrocities he had committed against the nation of Timber. But she had never known hatred like this. There is no thought or rationality. No cause or effect. No fear, no remorse, no hesitation. The hatred within Ultimecia is absolute and indivisible._

_ But before Ultimecia can act, Ellone's power takes over. Even Ultimecia is unable to stop it as both she and Rinoa are taken back in time, to a point years in the past. The world fades to black, and the sounds and chaos of the Lunatic Pandora are silenced. _

_ Falling again._

_ The sensation of falling is the first thing that comes to Rinoa's mind. At first, she thinks this feeling is a side-effect of Ellone's power at work, until she realizes that she is literally falling. Hard-packed earth slams into her shoulder, her body, her legs. Her head snaps against the cool dirt. Her eyes open, dazed, but not seriously injured. _

_ She tries to move her body, but she cannot. Ultimecia is still in control. She is just as disoriented as Rinoa, but her fury and her power still hold sway. From the dark corner of her mind, Rinoa assesses the situation, to try to find answers. _

_ The body she inhabits is small, frail. She is a girl, not quite a woman yet, but nearing that age. She is dressed in rough clothes that itch on her skin. She can feel the weight of many necklaces and bracelets on her body. Rinoa wants to see them, but Ultimecia chooses instead to look to the horizon, to establish her location. There is nothing to see in the distance. Only endless, rolling hills of bare, speckled dirt and a cloudless blue sky. _

_ Ultimecia finally recovers enough to make this body sit upright. Dirt clings to her skin, and Ultimecia brushes it off. _

_ "Adel!" a man's voice shouts. Ultimecia turns her head to look at the voice. To her left, a man is sitting on two-wheeled wooden cart. Pulling the cart is a filthy, exhausted chocobo. It hangs its head, its beak almost dragging on the ground. Inside the cart are wooden boxes and tools. _

_ "Adel!" the man says again. He leaps off the cart and runs around the chocobo, racing to the fallen girl, to Ultimecia, to Rinoa. He is dressed in a plain brown tunic, ragged and torn around the edges. Bracelets and necklaces adorn his body. His body speaks of a man who has spent his life in hard, physical labor. His strong, calloused hands grip the girl's shoulders as he kneels down to examine her. _

_ "Adel, are you all right?" the man asks. His eyes are as blue as the sky. _

_ Ultimecia does not recognize this man, yet still she despises him. She narrows her eyes—her stolen eyes. She says, "Where is this?" The voice is the child's voice, the mouth is the child's, but the tone, the inflection is Ultimecia's. _

_ The man doesn't seem to understand the question. "You fell off the cart, Adel. Are you hurt? Did something happen?"_

_ For the first time, Ultimecia looks down at her new form. She is dressed similarly to the man, the same brown tunic and the same intricate jewelry. Her skin is darkened from the sun, like the man's, and is marred by old cuts and scrapes. _

_ Rinoa is surprised. A part of her knew that Adel was once a regular human. That she wasn't always the giant monstrosity with discolored, sickly skin and inhuman features. But she hadn't expected Adel to be so completely… normal._

_ (Is this what happens to a sorceress over time? Do they all change like Adel?)_

_ While Rinoa contemplates this, Ultimecia has other concerns. She makes Adel shrug aside the man's grip and get to her feet. She scans the horizon, still trying to get a sense for her location. The only thing visible is a low mountain range barely discernible on the horizon. Nothing else._

_ Nearby, a few dozen other wooden carts move along the land, pulled by other chocobos. It seems, to Rinoa, like a tribe migrating from one place to another. But what tribe, and where were they going?_

_ "I do not recognize this place," Ultimecia says, using Adel's mouth. "Where is this?"_

_ The man's features change. His eyes go from concern to fear, and coldness. He straightens up and takes a measured step backwards. _

_ "Adel," he says. "What is my name?"_

_ Somehow, Ultimecia's limitless fury intensifies even further. The sheer force of it feels as though she's about to rip apart Adel's body, just from hatred alone._

_ "Answer me," Ultimecia says. "Answer me now."_

_ Rinoa begins to get worried. Ellone was only supposed to send her back for a few moments, long enough for Ultimecia to cast the spell for time compression. But it feels as though minutes have passed, and still Rinoa is locked in the past, in Adel's body. _

_ (Has something gone wrong?)_

_ The man slowly exhales. He turns his head slightly, but never takes his eyes off of Adel. _

_ "Mother," he says. "Mother, I need you." _

_A nearby cart slows to a stop. Ultimecia does not react or turn her head, so Rinoa is unable to see what is happening. She can hear as someone slowly gets off the stopped cart and shuffles over to the man. _

_The image of an old woman enters Ultimecia's sight. Only then does Ultimecia turn and look at the woman. She is the only one in the tribe not dressed in brown. Her clothes are of soft, purple fabric, interwoven with silver sigils. Her hair is long, gray, and clean. _

"_What is the trouble, Durand?" the woman asks. Despite her age, her voice is strong and youthful. _

"_The sickness is among us again, Mother," Durand says. "It has taken Adel."_

_The woman turns to face Adel. Her eyes are piercing. Rinoa feels as if the woman is not looking at Adel, or Ultimecia, but directly at Rinoa. As if the woman can peer right into Adel's mind and see that there are other forces inside of her, fighting for control._

"_Speak, demon," the woman says. _

"_I have no time for this," Ultimecia says. She raises her hand and exerts an effort of willpower, summoning her energy and directing it towards the woman._

_But nothing happens. The woman is unmoved, and the man also unaffected. Ultimecia scowls, then looks to the chocobo. She raises her hand again and directs all her fury at it. It shakes its head, rattling its harness, but seems not to notice Ultimecia._

"_Adel has no power for you to claim, demon," the woman says. "She is too young to accept the burden."_

_Ultimecia's fury continues to rise. Rinoa is sure that she will be driven insane by Ultimecia's hatred. But for the first time, it is now an impotent rage. Ultimecia cannot simply destroy her enemies with a thought, and the idea of her own helplessness triggers the first emotion Rinoa has felt from her aside from rage._

_Inside Ultimecia's heart, a small note of fear plays._

_She turns to run, but the man is expecting this. In two steps he is upon her, grabbing her roughly by the arms. _

"_LET ME GO!" Ultimecia screams using Adel's mouth. Every muscle in her body resists. She kicks, twists, spins, but the man's grip is unshakable, digging painfully into the meat of her arms. "LET ME GO LET ME GO!"_

_By now, every eye in the tribe is watching the scene, but only Rinoa is aware of this. Ultimecia's only thought is of escape, of distancing herself from the man. The man who makes her feel powerless._

_The man Durand turns her around and drags her back to the woman. Her face is unreadable, her expression mute. Still Ultimecia struggles, even though the futility of her resistance is now unquestionable. _

_She meets the old woman's gaze and stops struggling. Rinoa can feel her still trying to throw magic at the woman, but Adel's body does not respond to the order. Ultimecia can only command what is there to claim, and Adel has no magic at this time. _

_The old woman closes her eyes, and begins muttering in an unusual language. _

"_You have no power over me, crone," Ultimecia says, the calmness in her words hiding the turmoil in her heart. "Your words are nonsense. Let me go."_

_After a moment, the old woman opens her eyes again. Eyes that carry a serenity that matches Ultimecia's fury. Her mouth opens and two words cross her lips._

"_Be gone."_

_And the world vanishes into darkness._

_It is the sensation of touch that returns first to Rinoa. The ground below her is hard and metallic. Her body aches and her skin is cold. But when she opens her eyes, when she gets to her feet, it is her will that moves her body, her eyes that look out at her friends, at Squall. She is herself again, and Ultimecia's fury is gone. _

_She tries to say what she saw. Although she does not understand what happened, she feels that there is something immensely important about that sequence of Adel's past. The old woman, the caravan of people, Adel's childhood. She wants to tell it all._

"_I was… inside Adel," Rinoa says. "The young Adel."_

_But before she can continue, the world starts to move out of focus. At first she thinks it is an aftereffect of her experiences, but soon she realizes that the others see it too. The world is contorting, turning to liquid and melting away._

"_Ultimecia's inside Adel," Laguna says. "Exactly as she wanted. Okay, this is the showdown, folks! Time compression is about to begin. 'Love, friendship, and courage!' Show 'em what you got!"_

_And there is no time for stories. Moment leads to moment, battle follows battle, and soon Rinoa has all but forgotten the vision of Adel's past. Until she is walking down the halls of Balamb Garden. She'd watched her father's video on cable the day prior, and she is thinking of him, and the mission to assassinate Sorceress Edea. _

_Thoughts of Edea lead to thoughts of Adel, and suddenly all the memories come back. She has to tell Squall. Not just because she wants him to know about it, to share her experiences with him, but because she can't escape the feeling that there is something very, very critical about what happened. But despite her efforts, she cannot find what was so important about the memory._

_(Maybe Squall will know.)_

Squall was silent for several seconds. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against his desk in his dorm room. Rinoa sat on his bed, looking up at him. Warm sunlight poured through his window and splashed on the floor. He was in full SeeD uniform, black, with a rope around the shoulder and other frills and medals that Rinoa did not understand.

"Well?" Rinoa asked. "What do you think?"

Squall sighed. "It's not much to go on. The landscape you described sounds like the Centra Continent, but that's just a guess. And these people, these nomads. I've never heard of anything like it. And you're sure it's the same Adel?"

Rinoa shrugged. "How many Adels can there be? And… I don't know how to say it. But when I was junctioned to Adel, I _felt_ her somehow. Her mind, I guess. I could feel it again inside that girl, but different. Younger. But it was the same person. I know it."

"You're right," Squall said. He seemed to be speaking half to Rinoa and half to himself. "And Ellone can only send people into other people she knows. She knows Adel, which is why she chose her. So yeah… sorry. Dumb question."

Rinoa smiled. "It's alright. I'm glad you're taking this so seriously. I was worried you'd just say, 'it doesn't mean anything,' and then go away."

Squall put a hand on his hip. "I think I deserve a little more credit than that."

"You're getting better, I'll admit," Rinoa said. "But… I mean. The old woman. That's what's really got me worried. What did she do?"

Squall shook his head. "You got me. She could be another sorceress. There's a lot we don't know about the sorceresses and their powers. Who knows what kind of spells she could have cast? Or she might have something like Ellone's power, but I always thought that was unique to Ellone. It'd be a big deal if we found out there were more people like her."

"But she said 'be gone,' like she was getting rid of Ultimecia permanently," Rinoa said. "I thought Ellone just sent people into the past. That wouldn't get rid of Ultimecia forever, right?"

"Good point," Squall said. Squall pushed himself off his desk and stood to his full height. "I really don't have any answers. Someone in Esthar might know more about Adel's past. About who she was, where she came from. They might also know who these nomads were. We can try and see if we can get into contact with them."

"Eee!" Rinoa said. She leapt from the bed and threw her arms around Squall, bumping him back against his desk. The items on his desk shook, then resettled.

"What? What is it?" Squall said. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm just glad you're taking it so serious," Rinoa said. "I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn't care about some stupid little thing like that, when so much is going on right now."

Squall looked into her eyes. "Of course I care. Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know," Rinoa said. She still held on to Squall, but relaxed her grip a little. "I've just felt a little alone lately. Like no one understands."

"Garden is full of people," Squall said. "How can you feel alone?"

"They're not _people_," Rinoa said. "They're SeeDs. That's different."

"SeeDs are people," Squall said. He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Yeah, but…" Rinoa trailed off. She let go of Squall and turned around. "Nevermind. It's not important."

(He wouldn't get it anyway.)

"What?" Squall said. "Is something wrong?"

Rinoa changed the subject. "Do you know how to get ahold of Esthar?"

Squall shook his head. "No. They've been in a communications blackout since the Sorceress War. Nothing goes in or out of Esthar. The Ragnarok could get into contact with Esthar Airfield, but the Ragnarok is probably still stuck in the side of the Lunatic Pandora, where we left it."

"But the Ragnarok used a radio, right?" Rinoa said. "Couldn't we just figure out the frequency?"

"It was probably an encoded frequency," Squall said. "Esthar wouldn't take chances by broadcasting over a public frequency that just anyone could get onto. Kinda defeats the purpose of being in a communications blackout."

"Oh… shoot," Rinoa said. She sat down on his bed. "And they're so far away too…"

"Yeah," Squall said. He paused for a moment, lost in thought. "But you know who isn't far away?"

"Who?"

"Matron. Edea," Squall said. "She may not know about Adel specifically, but she knows more than anybody else about sorceresses in general. She might have a clue."

"Great!" Rinoa said. She clapped her hands together. "Let's go ask her."

"I don't know if I have the time…" Squall said.

Rinoa pouted. They locked eyes for a second, then Squall relented.

"… Eh, we're just in a holding pattern now anyway," he said. "Until either Timber or Galbadia makes a move, we don't have anything to do just yet, so it's not like I have anything urgent to attend to. So yeah, let's go."

"Eee!" Rinoa said. She leapt to her feet.

"That noise you're making," Squall said. "You've never done that before. Now you're doing it all the time."

"I'm trying it out. Do you like it?"

"I don't know if 'like' is the right word."

"You are zero fun, Squall," Rinoa said. She poked him in the chest. "Zero fun."

"Let's go find Matron," Squall said. He turned and opened his dorm room door. As he stepped out into the hall, Rinoa latched onto his free hand, holding it in one of hers. Squall paused and looked down at their clasped hands. He looked up to Rinoa.

"I don't know if that's entirely appropriate," Squall said.

"Is there a rule against it?" Rinoa said, refusing to let go.

"I'm the SeeD Commander," Squall said. "And I'm in uniform."

"That's right," Rinoa said. "You're the SeeD Commander. Who's going to tell _you_ what to do?"

"I have to set an example for the others."

"And you'll set an example," Rinoa said, smiling. "Commander of SeeD and a great boyfriend at the same time. Truly a man of many talents."

Squall thought about it for a moment. "I guess if there's no rule against it…"

"Eee!" Rinoa said, bouncing on her toes. "Or should I stop saying that? How about… Hooray! No, that sounds phony. Yippee! Eh."

Squall raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something," Rinoa said.

They headed out of the dormitories and into the main hall of Garden.

When Squall and the other administrators had decided to make uniforms mandatory on Garden property, it left Rinoa and Irvine as the only two people on campus dressed in civilian clothes. And then once Irvine and Selphie left for Trabia, Rinoa found herself alone in her pale blue shirt and tight black shorts.

She never cared much about dress codes and she'd always thought of herself as an individual, unafraid to stand out in a crowd. But the difference in clothing emphasized all the other differences. She was not a SeeD: she did not dress like a SeeD, or act like a SeeD. She didn't have their training or their experiences. Walking around in Garden, she felt, at best, like an outsider. At worst, like an intruder.

But when she held Squall's hand, she felt not only the comfort of his touch, but a sense of belonging in a world that was fundamentally different from hers. Squall's open and honest acceptance of her made her feel welcome, in a way that Squall would probably not understand.

"She's probably in the Headmaster's office," Squall said.

He turned and began walking around the circumference of the Garden, heading to the elevator. The way was dotted with uniformed SeeDs and cadets, walking between sections of Garden. As they passed, they nodded at Squall, and said, "Commander," respectfully. Squall would nod back, equally professional.

One cadet noticed Squall as they were passing. The cadet muttered, "Afternoon, Commander." As Squall nodded in reply, the cadet's gaze flicked from Squall, to Squall and Rinoa's clasped hands, then up to Rinoa. Rinoa locked eyes with the boy for an instant before he turned away. He seemed embarrassed, as if he'd be caught breaking a rule.

Rinoa tried to ignore it.

"I think you like this whole 'Commander' business," Rinoa said to Squall. She squeezed his hand.

"I like that the rules are being obeyed," Squall said. "And I like that things are getting back to normal. It feels… like home again now."

(Not for me.)

Rinoa and Squall arrived at the elevators. Squall pushed the button for the elevator, then stepped back. He waited a moment, then squeezed Rinoa's hand.

"You know, you're right," Squall said. "This isn't so bad. If anything, I feel more official now. More mature."

Rinoa smiled at him. "I keep telling you."

The elevator arrived. Now that classes were in session again, students actually had a reason to go to the second floor. A half dozen students filed out of the elevator, muttering quick salutations to their commander as they passed. Once inside the elevator, Squall pushed the button for the third floor, and together they rode up to the top of the Garden, their hands still clasped.

The elevator arrived at the third floor. The two crossed through the receiving room. The doors were shut, as usual. Squall knocked on the door and waited for a response.

None came.

He knocked again, slightly louder. Still no response. He exchanged a glance with Rinoa, then released his grip on her hand. He pulled open the door and poked his head inside.

"Headmaster?" he said into Cid's office.

"Is he in there?" Rinoa asked.

Squall pulled his head back out. "Doesn't look like it. Come on."

Squall pushed the door all the way open and stepped into the office, with Rinoa following close behind. Cid's desk was covered in papers, but his computer monitor was dark, and his desk empty. There didn't seem to be anyone around.

"Odd…" Squall said. "He's usually here this time of day."

"Headmaster Cid!" Rinoa called into the office. "Anyone here?"

"Hellooooo," a voice called from the top of the Garden's bridge. Squall and Rinoa tilted their heads up to see who was there. Nida's head poked over the edge of the bridge. He appeared to be laying on his belly, his eyes peering down at the two.

"Oh, hey, Commander. Hey, Rinoa," Nida said. He waved.

"Hi, Nida," Rinoa said. She waved back.

"What are you doing up there?" Squall asked.

"I like it up here," Nida said. "I miss piloting Garden, so I come here to read and study. The Headmaster says it's okay, as long as I don't eavesdrop on anything. So what's up?"

"Have you seen the Headmaster?" Squall asked. "Or Matron?"

"No and no, I'm afraid," Nida said. He shook his head. "Xu and the Headmaster went somewhere about a half an hour ago. I think they mentioned Balamb or something. And I haven't seen Edea in a while."

"I thought you weren't supposed to eavesdrop," Rinoa said with a smile.

"I er, well… I didn't mean to," Nida said. "Sorry, Commander."

"It's not a problem," Squall said. "Call me on the intercom if they come by here, okay?"

"Yes, Commander," Nida said. He saluted, but his arm was partially obscured by the bridge. Squall saluted back. Then Nida retreated from view.

"Oh, I hope Edea didn't go to Balamb," Rinoa said to Squall.

"I don't think she would," Squall said. "It's not safe for her outside of Garden. After all, most people don't know the difference between her and Ultimecia, so they'll blame her for anything Ultimecia did using her body."

"I guess so," Rinoa said. "So where would she be?"

Squall thought for a moment. "She's not in the dorms," he said. "And there's no reason for her to be in the parking lot or the training center. Want to check the library?"

"Sounds good."

They headed out of the office and rode the elevators back down. Once again, Rinoa's hand found Squall's. He took her hand into his. The elevator arrived on the first floor with a ding. Squall and Rinoa stepped out into a crowd of three or four students, who all nodded at Squall and cast quick, suspicious glances at Rinoa. Squall and Rinoa walked past. As they did, Rinoa turned and looked over her shoulder. Once again, she caught the students staring, before they all suddenly broke their gazes.

When they were a few steps away and the elevator doors were safely shut, Rinoa pressed close to Squall. "Everyone keeps staring at me," she whispered.

"It's because you're not in uniform," Squall said. "You stand out."

"No, they looked at me like that before sometimes," Rinoa said. "When everyone was in civilian clothes. They still stared, every now and then."

"I never noticed," Squall said.

"Well, yeah, they aren't staring at _you_," Rinoa said. They continued for a few steps.

(SeeD exists to defeat the sorceress. Where did I first hear that?)

"It's… because I'm the sorceress, isn't it?" Rinoa said softly. "That's why they stare."

Squall stopped walking and looked off to the side, silent for a few seconds. Rinoa had started to develop a knack for sorting out Squall's expressions. The one currently on his face suggested that this thought had already occurred to him before, but now he was thinking of the best way to phrase it.

"It'll still take a while for people to get used to you," Squall said, looking at her. "A large portion of our training is devoted to fighting the sorceress, and it's hard to unlearn that."

"I guess…" Rinoa said.

"You just have to give them time," Squall said. "C'mon. Let's go find Matron."

Squall's answer didn't comfort her much, but it was an honest answer at least. Squall was terrible at making the truth sound pleasant, but he wasn't a liar.

(Unlike some other men in uniform I've known…)

Together, the SeeD Commander and the sorceress walked into the library. With classes starting again, the library had returned to life. Students milled around between the aisles, some carrying three or four textbooks in their hands as they scanned through book titles. They worked at the computer stations or studied at the desks, pencils scratching sheets of paper.

As Rinoa and Squall looked down the aisles, they found Zell, peering around a corner, as if he was hiding from someone. Zell noticed them and jumped.

"Oh hey Squall fancy meeting you here huh?" Zell said. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Hello, Zell," Squall said, nodding.

"Nothing how about you?" Zell said.

Squall looked confused. "Huh?"

"Look at the time gotta run nice talking to you bye you two," Zell said. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and awkwardly strolled out of the library.

Rinoa laughed.

"What the hell just happened?" Squall said, turning to her.

"I think we interrupted him," Rinoa said.

"… I don't get it," Squall said.

(Squall's probably the only one in Garden who doesn't get it. It's kinda funny.)

"It's not important," Rinoa said. She dismissed his confusion with a wave. "I don't see Edea anywhere."

"Yeah, neither do I. She might be talking to Dr. Kadowaki. Let's check out the infirmary next."

They turned and left the library, doubling back past the elevators to the other side of the Garden. Rinoa kept a running tab of how many students were greeting Squall in the walkway, and of those students, how many of them gave suspicious glances at Rinoa. By the time they stepped into the infirmary, the count was at four of a total of five. Only one girl, a young cadet perhaps too new to fully understand the situation, had greeted Squall without also eying Rinoa.

(They just have to get used to me. It'll get better with time.)

The infirmary seemed even cleaner than usual. Without any missions going on, few students were returning to Garden injured. A lot of combat training had been suspended as well, until Zell finished his exams and got his next class in order. With no injuries to attend to, Dr. Kadowaki seemed to have nothing better to do than tend to the infirmary. As Rinoa and Squall stepped inside, they found the doctor and a cadet sitting at the doctor's work table, playing a game of cards. Dr. Kadowaki laid down a card.

"And plus… and combo," Dr. Kadowaki said, flipping over several cards from their red sides to their blue sides.

"What? Where?" the cadet said.

"Here, and here," Dr. Kadowaki said, pointing to the numbers on the cards.

The cadet hung his head and groaned "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Squall and Rinoa approached the student from behind, standing across the table from Dr. Kadowaki.

"Dr. K is not to be taken lightly," Squall said with the faintest smile.

"Don't worry, kid. Since it's your first time, I'll go easy on you," Dr. Kadowaki said. She picked up the lowest ranked card in the young man's deck. "You won't miss this one, will you?"

The cadet sighed. "Go on. Take it."

Dr. Kadowaki took the card and added it to her thick deck. The cadet gathered the rest of his cards and shuffled out of the infirmary, humbled.

"Can I interest you in a game?" Dr. Kadowaki said, eyeing Squall.

"Maybe later," Squall said. "Have you seen Matron?"

"Hmm… not since this morning," Dr. Kadowaki said. She organized her deck, then opened a drawer in her desk. She wrapped the deck in a rubber band, then stuffed the deck into a corner of the drawer and closed it shut. "Is it urgent?"

"We just have a question for her," Rinoa said. "Tell us if she stops by, okay?"

"Will do," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"Thanks," Squall said. He and Rinoa turned and left.

Once outside, Squall took Rinoa to the circular inner walkway and paused. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled.

"It's a little late for lunch," Squall said. "But she might be in the cafeteria."

"Let's go check it out," Rinoa said. "I'm kinda enjoying the walk."

"Me too," Squall said. "I needed a break."

When they reached the cafeteria, Rinoa's Suspicious Glare Count had risen to a total of seven out of eight possible. Only that one girl from before had passed by without at least a glance at Rinoa. It seemed that now that Rinoa was paying attention to people's stares, everyone was looking at her.

(Maybe I'm thinking too much.)

Meal breaks in Garden were scheduled to individual students and staggered, to keep the cafeteria from being overcrowded. The cafeteria had a few students wandering about and populating the tables, but it was after most assigned lunchtimes, so the cafeteria was relatively empty. This made it easy to spot Edea sitting by herself at a table in the middle of the room, eating a hotdog.

Maybe it was just Rinoa's heightened sensitivity to SeeD's treatment of sorceresses, but she noticed that, not only was Edea sitting at a circular table all to herself, but the tables around her were empty as well. With a few exceptions, almost all the students were sitting at the tables along the edges of the cafeteria, forming a wide, empty ring around Edea, as if she had some contagious disease.

(It can't just be my imagination.)

Squall and Rinoa went to her. Squall was apparently oblivious to the empty space around Edea.

"What are you doing all by yourself?" Rinoa asked, taking a seat across from Edea. She tried to sound casual, but she was hoping that Edea noticed the divide between her and the students as well. Squall did not immediately take a seat, until Edea gestured for him to do so. He pulled out a chair next to Rinoa and sat down.

Edea dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "I decided it would be good to dine with the rest of the student body. It's important for me to be seen doing normal things. I may be a sorceress…" She paused. "… May have _been_ a sorceress… but I'm still human. I eat hot dogs, just like anybody else."

Rinoa narrowed her eyes and looked at Edea's hands, which held cafeteria-issued plastic utensils. "You eat hot dogs with a fork and knife," Rinoa said with a smile.

Edea relaxed. "Ah, yes, well… my assimilation into SeeD culture isn't quite complete yet, I suppose. So how can I help you?"

Rinoa didn't know where to start, so she started from the beginning. She told Edea about the vision she'd had when Ellone sent her to the past. She was very careful to describe the details about the people's clothing, the phrases they used, and the way they talked. When she was done, she shrugged.

"I just… wanted to know if that rang any bells," Rinoa said.

Edea set down her fork and knife and pushed aside her plate. She folded her hands on the table. After a moment to collect her thoughts, she replied.

"There were people living on the Centra continent before Cid and I set up the orphanage," Edea said. "Not many, and they didn't build cities or any permanent shelters, which is why most people today assume that the Centra continent has been completely uninhabited since the Lunar Cry that destroyed the region. During our time there, we heard a few conflicting rumors from sailors and travelers. Some said that these few people were wiped out in a war, or famine. Others said they'd simply moved somewhere else, entered a city, perhaps Esthar, and gave up their old ways of life. Your description of them seems to match some rumors I heard, but I'm afraid that's all I know."

"What rumors did you hear?" Rinoa said. She leaned forward, eager to hear more.

"I don't want to give you any wrong impressions," Edea said. "They were untrustworthy rumors from untrustworthy people, and I'm more likely to lead you astray than guide you if I share these rumors with you."

"Anything you know might help," Rinoa said. "Please… I have to know _something._"

Edea paused for a moment to think. "Well… the rumor we heard the most frequently was that the Centra civilization wasn't completely wiped out after the Lunar Cry. That a handful of survivors still eked out a living in the barren rocks of the continent, preserving their lore and their traditions. I'm inclined to believe this is true, though I have no evidence of it. It seems unlikely to me that every single person in all of Centra would die in one event, especially a civilization as advanced as they were. A few people must have survived, or so I assume. But why they would choose to live as nomads instead of trying to rebuild is what confuses me. I would think if they were truly remnants of the Centra, they would attempt to reclaim their lost lives."

"The Centra Extinction was eighty years ago," Squall said. "Adel couldn't possibly have been more than eighty… could she?"

Edea shook her head. "No. Despite the rumors, extreme longevity is not among a sorceress's powers. We age and die within normal human lifespans. I suspect that whatever time Ellone sent you to was somewhere between the Extinction and now, probably no more than forty or fifty years ago. In fact, Ellone herself would probably be more of service than I. She would—I assume—at least be able to tell you approximately when and where she sent you, which would at least narrow your search."

"But that woman," Rinoa said. "The woman the man called 'Mother.' Have you ever heard of powers like that?"

"That is new to me," Edea said. "And disconcerting. It is unfortunate that your memory ends where it does. I have no idea what she did to Adel and Ultimecia. She is possibly another sorceress. I have heard that the Centra were known to venerate the sorceress power, and treat sorceresses as divinities. Again, this is pure speculation, but if these people are remnants of Centra, it would make sense for them to hold a sorceress in high regard, and dress her in fine clothes and call her by a name of respect. But what her powers are… I cannot begin to guess."

Squall changed the subject. "Back in Esthar," he said, "When you were talking to Dr. Odine, he mentioned something about 'exorcising' a sorceress. He said it was pretty simple for him to do. Could this 'Mother' person have had a power like that?"

Rinoa stiffened in her chair. She had, at times, hated and feared her powers. She disliked how being the sorceress made her a threat in other people's eyes, and an object of suspicion at Garden. Still, the thought of having her powers taken from her forcefully made her uncomfortable. The sorceress concept had become a part of her identity, and to lose it would be losing a part of herself.

Edea shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. I really don't know anything more. I think, if you want to explore this further, you should read up about Centra history in the library. Or else you might consider getting in touch with Ellone and Dr. Odine. They would have more information."

"Esthar is back in communications blackout," Squall said. "I don't know how else to get in touch with them, short of physically going to Esthar."

Rinoa had an idea.

"Couldn't you try to contact Ellone?" she asked. "Through like, the mind-link thing you guys have?"

"I don't know," Squall said. "I've tried talking to her before, but it only seems to work one-way. She has to be the one to initiate the connection. I can't send a message, I can only receive."

"Darn…" Rinoa said. She turned back to Edea. "Well… thanks for your help. I really appreciate it."

"Yes, thank you, Matron," Squall said.

"I wish I could have been more use to you," Edea said. "I'm afraid I don't—"

Rinoa felt a charge in the air. It was as if someone was lightly brushing their hand across the very tips of the hairs all along her body. The feeling was familiar, somehow.

"Do you feel that?" Rinoa asked. She looked at Squall, then Edea. The other two at the table looked confused.

"Feel wh—" Squall started, but he was cut off by the sound of a fire igniting two tables over. A purple and blue flame roared on top of the flat metal table. It threw off no heat, but crackled and popped like a normal wood fire. In a few seconds, it was gone, leaving a woman with pale blue skin and sharp facial features on the table.

She was stretched out on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. She wore a flowing pink and blue dress. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, and a thin line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin. She wore an elaborate headdress made of the same colors and of the same material as her dress.

(I know her!)

Everyone in the cafeteria was on their feet in an instant. The cadets and the regular SeeDs pressed themselves against the walls, ready to fight or run as the situation required. Squall moved himself between Rinoa and the sorceress on the table, defending Rinoa and Edea. He reached for his waist, but he had not taken his gunblade with him.

"It's one of the sorceresses from Time Compression," Squall said. He held his arms out, shielding the two women behind him as best he could.

"What's it doing here?" Rinoa whispered.

Edea was the first to move. She stepped around Squall, hesitantly moving towards the broken sorceress. The sorceress on the table moaned, filling the cafeteria with a low rumble of pain and misery.

"She's dead," Edea said. She turned to Rinoa and Squall. "But she cannot truly die until she passes her powers on to another."

The sorceress moaned again, and all the SeeDs in the room except for Squall backed away. People were creeping along the edges of the room, trying to sneak their way out of the cafeteria, never taking their eyes off the sorceress.

"I'll do it," Rinoa said. She stepped around Squall and proceeded to the sorceress.

"Rinoa!" Squall said, reaching for her arm. Edea held up a hand to stop him.

"The sorceress cannot harm anyone," Edea said. "It's all right."

Rinoa took another step towards the sorceress. Though the broken sorceress's eyes were clouded, unseeing, she seemed able to sense Rinoa's approach. She moaned again, and reached her weak arms towards Rinoa, pleading.

"It's okay…" Rinoa said, both to herself and the sorceress. "It's okay."

She got as close to the deceased sorceress as she dared and reached forward. Her fingertips brushed against the other sorceress's hand. A jolt of power flowed from the dead sorceress into Rinoa, temporarily giving her a rush of energy, an electric sensation that ran through every part of her body. The feeling faded, and the sorceress on the table sighed, whether in relief or despair, Rinoa could not say.

The sorceress collapsed onto her back and went limp. Then another purple flame engulfed her completely. The fire did not burn her skin or her clothes, but when the fire died away, so too vanished the sorceress. The table showed no remnant of her presence, no items left on the table, no burns from the fire.

Nothing.

Rinoa looked around her. The few SeeDs still remaining stared at Rinoa with a mixture of shock and terror. But Rinoa suspected that there was more terror than shock at that moment. Squall approached Rinoa. He stood in front of her, defending her once more, and raised himself to his full height, addressing the remaining students.

"Carry on, everyone," Squall said. His voice was low with authority. "The situation is under control."

Squall's voiced snapped them out of their stupor. The SeeDs remaining grabbed their trays and their supplies and exited the cafeteria, no longer interested in food. Some had already begun nervously chattering with each other. Within a few moments, the cafeteria contained only Squall, Edea, and Rinoa.

(Squall didn't tell them to leave. He just said to carry on.)

(They left because they're afraid.)

(Afraid of what?)

(You.)

Rinoa clasped the ring she wore on her necklace. The ring she had gotten from Squall. She closed her eyes.

Squall turned around and faced Edea.

"What was that?" Squall said.

"Again, I find myself with no answers to give you," Edea said. "You said you recognized this sorceress?"

Squall folded his arms. "Yeah. After time compressed, we encountered several rogue sorceresses floating around in time. We fought and defeated them, and then they disappeared. This was one of them."

"They had to go somewhere," Edea said. "A sorceress cannot die until she has passed on her powers to another. This one chose to come here, and now."

"But… why?"

"These questions are beyond me, Squall," Edea said. "I have nothing to offer you."

Rinoa opened her eyes, still holding her ring with one hand. "Was it… because of me? Did it come here for me?"

Edea stepped close to Rinoa and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Rinoa, let me offer some advice. Never call a sorceress 'it.' She is a human, and you are a human. You are not a monster, and nor was she. Some sorceresses make bad decisions, they become corrupted by their power. But they are not monsters, even in their darkest moments."

Rinoa nodded. "O-okay…"

Edea glanced back and forth between Squall and Rinoa. "I have nothing to tell you. This is truly unprecedented. But I believe that everything happens for a reason, including this. That sorceress, she chose this place and this time for a reason. I think it is critical that we understand what that reason was. Something like this may happen again, and we need to be ready."

"I agree," Squall said. "Odine would be the only one who would know. He came up with the time compression plan, and he knows more about sorceresses than any of us. And even if he doesn't know the reason behind this, he might be able to figure it out."

"Indeed," Edea said.

"But who do I send to Esthar?" Squall asked. "Irvine and Selphie are in Trabia, and—"

"You go yourself, of course," Edea said. "You and Rinoa. You two were the ones who witnessed this event. Rinoa is the one with questions about sorceresses and the Centra. Furthermore, you're one of the few people that would be allowed into Esthar. There is no one else who can go."

Squall shook his head. "But I can't leave Garden," he said. "There's too much to do. And the situation in Timber is not looking any better."

"It's not looking any worse either," Edea said. "And remember, you have a competent Lieutenant Commander for just such an occasion. Quistis will be able to manage until you return. We will all manage."

Squall crossed his arms and looked to a distant corner of the cafeteria. Rinoa tried to examine his expression, to see what he was thinking. Eventually, she realized that he was making his I-don't-agree-with-you-but-you-sort-of-have-a-point face. Finally he looked at Rinoa.

"I'll leave it to you," he said. "Do you want to go to Esthar?"

Rinoa found herself with a million things to say, but no way to sort through her thoughts. It seemed like Timber was finally rising up in a coordinated rebellion against Galbadia, the city's numerous resistance groups working together to push the invaders off their land. Rinoa had dreamed of the day that open rebellion would finally break out in Timber, and she wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. Although the Forest Owls had been unofficially disbanded, their members scattered around the world, Rinoa felt obligated to finish what she had started when she first came to Garden to ask for SeeD's help.

(Seems like so long ago now.)

She thought then that she had a plan to end Timber's occupation once and for all. By coercing Vizner Deling, using SeeD, she would force the President to free Timber. But she knew now that there was no quick solution to the problem. Vizner Deling had been removed, violently, from his office, but still Timber was occupied. The only thing that could free Timber, it seemed, was an open rebellion. Which was what was happening right now. If Rinoa left for Esthar, she would be half a world away, unable to help the people she considered friends and allies. She had agreed to fight with them, fight for them, and she would be moving away from the heart of the conflict.

(What if they need me?)

But then she remembered the look of fear on the SeeD's faces when she claimed the slain sorceress's powers. The looks in the hallways she received on a daily basis, just walking from room to room. She was feared, both in Garden, and around the world. If Timber did rise up, what would she do? Would she rush in to defend them, use her sorceress powers to crush the Galbadian army? She could do that. She could do that very easily.

(But then I'd be just like Adel and Ultimecia.)

Squall had told her that one of the major reasons SeeD was staying out of Timber was because SeeD's involvement would make a war inevitable. Once Timber got SeeD's troops on their side, Galbadia would have no choice but to either immediately surrender or go to war. The same was true, Rinoa realized, if a sorceress got involved. Rinoa's interference would spark a retaliation, just the same as SeeD's involvement would.

She hated it, but she was needed elsewhere. The questions in her mind had become too big to leave unanswered, and the sorceress from time compression demanded explanation. Esthar was so far away…

(But there's no one else…)

"Yes," Rinoa said. "I want to go to Esthar."


	5. Chapter 5: It's Starting

_**Chapter 5:**_

_**It's Starting**_

(Zell)

Galbadia Gazette: "Galbadian Chief Military Advisor: Rebellion in Timber 'Not a Concern.'"

Dollet Free Press: "Increased military presence in Timber. Duke of Dollet remains neutral."

Deling City Authority: "Elections Proceeding as Planned."

Dollet Editorial: "It's Not Our Fight."

Deling City Authority, Special Election Coverage: "Ancelin Vaschel, CEO of Galbadia Natural Resources, Inc., Announces Candidacy."

Video File: "General Caraway Responds to Allegations."

The Balamb Tides: "Foreign Uncertainty: Import Prices Rise."

Galbadia Gazette: "Increased Security to Protect Presidential Candidates."

The Plainsman: "Analysis of Presidential Hopefuls."

Deling City Authority: "No Truth To Allegations of Extra Troops in Timber."

Video File: "Galbadian Troops Attack in Timber. MUST WATCH!"

Dollet Free Press: "Duke of Dollet Urges Cooperation with Galbadia."

Obel Times: "Media Blackout Continues."

Deling City Authority, Special Election Coverage: "First Presidential Debate Scheduled."

Video File: "General Caraway Promises Peace."

Video File: "War is Coming."

(Man, I dunno who to believe.)

Zell sighed and slumped against the backrest of his chair. With one gloved hand, he rubbed his eyes. Compared to some of the other students in the library, who had been tearing through screen after screen of news articles for the better part of the day, Zell had only just begun to work through the torrent of news spewing from all sources. But he'd never had much patience for reading textbooks or online news articles, and he was already exhausted after his short search. He looked at the clock on the wall.

(What? I've only been here fifteen minutes? No way!)

Zell sighed again. All he wanted to do was see if anyone had reported sudden appearances of sorceresses. He figured it would be big news if that happened. Instead he found a wall of reports coming from Galbadia and the surrounding areas, mostly covering the impending election and addressing—but never really explaining—the situation in Timber.

The Garden's news aggregator automatically refreshed the page, bringing up another dozen new links. Zell skimmed them, but saw nothing about sorceresses, sudden appearances, or mysterious events.

(I guess that means we're all clear.)

He sighed once more, this time in relief. Garden had enough problems on its hands without having to worry about all the sorceresses from time compression coming back into the world.

(How many did we defeat? Ten? Fifteen?)

Too many, in any case. If all those sorceresses came back all at once, there would be a global panic, enough to make the rebellion in Timber seem as trivial as an argument between friends. Furthermore, he didn't want anything troubling his mind when he went to Esthar. No lingering doubts about the fate of the world distracting him while he was away.

At least, no more doubts than he had already.

With a keystroke, he shut off the monitor of his computer. He pushed back the chair and stood up, stretching out his stiff body. His elbows, shoulders, and back cracked as he reached up to the ceiling. A couple students glanced up at him, glaring, then went back to their studies. Zell scratched his head and yawned, then stepped away from the terminal.

Before he was three steps away, another student swooped into his empty chair and turned the monitor back on. With classes back in session, a brewing war in Galbadia, and now a sorceress teleporting into the cafeteria, the library terminals had become in high demand. Every single one was currently filled, with another half dozen students milling around, waiting for one to become available.

Zell walked past the shelves of books and headed to the front desk. Behind the desk was a girl, slightly younger than Zell, in a blue cadet's uniform. She was working her way through a stack of books on the desk, scanning their titles into a computer and setting them aside into a second pile.

He knew that she was one of Ami's friends, but Zell could not, no matter what, remember any of their names. Ami had introduced all her friends to him in one flurry of names and faces, leaving Zell hopelessly lost. He knew one of them was named "V-something." Or maybe it was "B-something." Zell couldn't recall. In his own mind, he knew this girl as "Braid," because she kept her waist-length black hair in a tight braid. Other than that, Zell knew almost nothing about her.

Zell stepped up to the desk and knocked twice on the wood.

"Heya," Zell said. "You seen Ami around? I gotta tell her somethin'."

"Tell her what?" Braid said. She smiled as if she had a secret, which was a frustrating habit all of Ami's friends seemed to share. It made Zell feel like he was missing something important.

"Somethin' important," Zell said. "Is she around?"

Braid dropped the book in her hand and gasped. The book landed on the desk with a _thud_. Zell jumped, startled both by the sound of the book hitting the desk and the girl's sharp reply to his simple question. He knew that he was prone to saying the wrong thing, but there was no way that asking after Ami could be worth _gasping_ about.

(… Right?)

Ignoring Zell's question, the girl turned to the desk's computer and closed out of its current program. She opened up a chat log and began furiously typing. Zell leaned over the front desk to get a view of the screen, his feet dangling off the floor. He managed to see what she was writing a moment before she sent it to whoever was on the other end of the chat.

"ALERT!" Braid's message read. "Code A-Z. Level 3! Library!"

She closed the chat log and opened the library's inventory program. The screen was filled with a list of book titles and identification numbers. Zell pushed back away from the desk and landed on his feet.

"What's a code A dash Z?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing you need to worry about," Braid said with another secretive smile. "Just… hang on, one sec, okay? Don't move."

He nodded. "Okay."

Interacting with Ami's friends was like going to a far away land where nobody spoke the same language and had bizarre customs. Zell had given up trying to fit in to their strange culture of code messages and "alerts" and decided that the best way to avoid making waves was to hold perfectly still.

And that is exactly what he did. In less than a minute, three more of Ami's friends scampered into a library, all dressed in cadet uniforms, and each carrying miscellaneous items. They crowded around Zell, who was busy standing still. He drew his arms up to his chest, defensively, as if surrounded by sharks. Two of the girls stood on either side of him and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away from the front desk and towards the exit.

"AAH!" Zell yelped, drawing a furious "SHH!" from several sources within the library, including Braid. Since he was no longer able to stand still, he defaulted to the next defensive posture: going limp. He relaxed his muscles and allowed the much smaller girls to pull him around the school like a trained puppy.

While the two girls escorted Zell into the hall, the third talked rapidly.

"Okay, Zell, this has to be perfect," the girl said. In his mind, he knew her as Blue Ribbon, for the four tight blue bowties she always wore in her hair. "And with our help, it will be!"

"Nothing to worry about," the girl on his left said. Her hair was black and curly, so Zell called her Curly.

"It's fool-proof!" the girl on his right said. He'd never actually seen her before, but her short, almost boyish haircut inclined him to call her "Tomboy." With some effort, he probably could have come up with more suitable nicknames, but he honestly intended to learn all their names one day, and didn't want to waste mental powers on the subject.

"Anyone can be a romantic," Blue Ribbon said. "It's just a matter of preparation."

(I have no idea what they're talking about.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zell said.

He and the girls marched down the hallway and found themselves in the main Garden area. He thought they would let him go when they reached the central walkway, but they held their grips on his arms and directed him left at the intersection, towards the front gate. Students walked past, eyeing the odd scene before them, occasionally smirking, but not saying anything aloud.

"Now is a critical stage in your relationship!" Blue Ribbon said. Her tone of voice was odd. Only after a couple of moments did Zell realize she was talking as if she was making a soliloquy on stage, belting out lines of poetry written by some long-dead playwright. "Here, epic romances are forged or shattered! You love Ami, right?"

He had no idea how to answer that question. He liked Ami, for sure. He wanted to know her better, to spend more time with her. He could see himself falling in love, later. After a few months or so. But love? Now?

(Love is a big, big word…)

Zell gulped. "I… umm…"

"Of course he loves her!" Curly said. Zell felt relief. He didn't care what they said, so long as he didn't have to answer the question. Still pulling on Zell's arm, Curly looked into the distance at something Zell couldn't see. Her voice became dreamy and soft. "Theirs is a love destined by the stars!"

"They write stories about love like this!" Tomboy said.

(Oh, geez.)

The group marched past the walkway that led to the front gate, and continued on towards the infirmary. The girls' grips on his arms were starting to hurt, their nails were digging into his skin. Although their tone of voice suggested excitement, he felt like he'd done something wrong and was being dragged before the teacher to confess.

Blue Ribbon revealed what was in her hand: a couple of magazines. She shoved one under Zell's nose, filling his field of vision. She couldn't hold the magazine steady, so the words and pictures bounced and blurred in a confusing mass of colors and lines. He stumbled over his feet. He could see enough of the magazine to notice that one section had been circled with red marker, but that's all.

"See your horoscope for today?" Blue Ribbon asked. "It says that today is a great day for deep confessions. If you admit your true feelings, they will be returned! So you couldn't have picked a better day for this!"

"You must have known," Tomboy said. "That's why you picked today. Instinctively, you knew."

"Destined by the stars!" Curly said.

(?)

"Huh?" Zell said.

Blue Ribbon pulled the magazine away, finally allowing Zell to see where he was going. The girls rounded past the infirmary, heading down towards the quad now.

(Where are they taking me?)

"Where…" Zell said.

"Fellas Magazine has some great advice for guys in their new issue," Blue Ribbon said. She shoved this magazine in front of Zell, once more blocking his vision. "Pay attention to this."

"Don't talk too much about yourself," Tomboy said.

"Don't make any rude noises," Curly said.

"Don't ask questions that are too personal," Blue Ribbon said.

"Compliment the girl, but be sincere," Tomboy said. "Don't just make stuff up."

Zell quickly lost track of who was talking, as the three began rattling off relationship advice, often talking over each other. Listening to them was worse than sorting through the Garden's news aggregator. At least the aggregator _stopped_ occasionally.

"Don't tell lies."

"Don't chew with your mouth open."

"Keep your feet on the floor."

"What's going on?" Zell asked.

"Don't slouch."

"Don't look at the time."

"Be polite and courteous."

"Don't tell off-color jokes."

"Huh?" Zell said.

"Avoid uncomfortable subjects."

"Be attentive and listen."

"Look at her, but don't stare."

"Don't be too loud or too quiet."

The group moved past the quad, heading towards the cafeteria. Zell began losing track of where he was and what he was doing, the constant chatter on all sides overloading his brain.

(HELP ME!)

"Be confident and assertive, but not arrogant."

"Smile often."

"I don't… huh?" Zell said.

"Avoid excusing yourself from the table more than necessary."

"Don't fidget."

"And above all, have fun!" Blue Ribbon said, an impossibly wide grin stretching across her face. The three girls stopped talking long enough for Zell to inhale. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been holding his breath until his lungs screamed in relief at receiving fresh air.

The three girls stopped in front of the hallway leading to the cafeteria. Curly and Tomboy let go of Zell's arms, leaving red claw marks on his skin where they'd held him. Both handed him the items they'd been carrying the whole time. He took the items out of sheer reflex, not even knowing what they were until he held them.

"Here's a small box of chocolates," Tomboy said.

"And a white rose," Curly said. "Go get 'er!"

Zell looked at the rose. It was freshly picked, tiny drops of water clinging to the petals. He looked at the chocolates: a fancy brand Zell knew was imported into Balamb from overseas. He looked down the hall into the cafeteria, then to Blue Ribbon, then Curly, then Tomboy.

(Rose. Chocolate. Cafeteria. Smile often. Don't be rude. Rose. Chocolate. Fellas Magazine. Rose Chocolate. Cafeteria. Don't slouch.)

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Zell screamed.

A couple of passing students eyed him curiously, and took a wide berth as they walked around the group. Ami's friends all took a step back, momentarily stunned by his outburst.

"Fellas Magazine says you shouldn't scream," Tomboy said, whispering.

"Please…" Zell said, panting. He didn't know why he was out of breath, but he was. "Tell me what's going on…"

"Ami's in the cafeteria," Blue Ribbon said. "She's on her lunch break. Didn't we tell you?"

"NO!" Zell said. "You didn't tell me anything except… umm…"

He tried to recall some of the dating advice they'd given him, but couldn't recall a single word of it.

"Oh…" Blue Ribbon said. "Well… she is. And she's waiting for you. We told her you were coming."

"Just stick to our advice and you'll be fine," Curly said. "Remember, everything you do is guided by destiny! Fate won't let you fail!"

Zell was about to ask another question, but he bit it back. Asking them questions would just confuse him more than he already was. He had only wanted to know where Ami was, and now he knew she was in the cafeteria. That was good enough.

"Thanks," Zell said. He nodded to the three girls, and headed down the hall into the cafeteria. The third girls wished him luck as he left the main area of Garden.

As he crossed the threshold into the cafeteria, his emotions finally cooled off and he was able to think again. He realized that he was still holding a rose and a box of chocolates, but he'd forgotten why.

(Something about off-color jokes…)

He looked around the cafeteria. The sorceress had appeared in this room only a couple of hours before, and students were still skittish about coming back, so there were fewer students around than usual. That made it easy to spot Ami across the room, sitting by herself and reading. Zell smiled, and worked his way between chairs and tables to get to her.

"Hey," Zell said, approaching Ami's table. She looked up from the book. When she saw him, she smiled shyly. Zell didn't know if she knew any other way to smile.

"Hi, Zell…" she said, her voice soft and warm. As usual, her brown hair was dressed in pigtails, and she wore the same blue cadet's uniform that all her friends wore. Her face was pale, and her eyes dark.

She looked down at his hands, still clutching the items her friends had given him.

"Are those for me?" she asked.

"I uh, yeah!" Zell said. He awkwardly reached out, offering his gifts to her. "They… uh… yeah. Here."

He didn't feel that the occasion warranted gift-giving, but he couldn't very well give the rose and candy back, or tell Ami she couldn't have them. But in any case, it was free stuff for Ami, so that had to be a good thing.

"Thank you," Ami said. She grasped the flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling gently. She took the box of chocolates and set it down on the table beside her book. Zell noticed that, even though it was her lunch break, she hadn't brought any food. Only her book sat on the table before her.

"Please, sit," Ami said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. She set the rose down, laying the stem across the top of her chocolates. Zell jumped into the chair across from her, the legs screeching on the tiled floor.

"So… um… hi!" Zell said. He smiled, and cleared his throat.

"Hi again," Ami said, staring into Zell's eyes. For a moment their eyes met, and Zell forgot what he was going to say.

"So your friends are… um, interesting," Zell said.

Ami chuckled. "I hope they weren't too rough on you. They can be really hard sometimes. Especially Lora."

(Oh man, which one's Lora?)

"Naw," Zell said. "They were nice. Just… excitable."

"That's good."

Ami watched Zell from across the table, one finger brushing against the tips of the rose petals. Zell drummed his fingers on the table. He felt excited, impatient, and nervous, like he was expecting something big to happen, but he couldn't figure out why. Several seconds passed before he remembered why he came.

"Oh!" Zell said. He snapped his fingers. "I came to tell you. I'm um… I'm going to be going to Esthar. I'm sorry."

"Esthar?" Ami said. "Why?"

"Squall thinks it's the best way to find out about why a sorceress showed up here," Zell said. "We're gonna ask Doc Odine and Ellone about it, see what they can come up with."

"Oh…" Ami said. The smile drifted away from her face. "I see."

Zell leaned forward across the table, setting his hand on the book, wanting to touch Ami's hand, but not sure if he should. The phrase "Level 3," from the message on Braid's computer, came to mind.

"It's only for a couple days," he said. "Just to talk. Then I'll be back."

Ami smiled sadly. "I'll miss you."

A funny tingle ran up Zell's back, making him need to clear his throat before he spoke. "I'll miss you too."

"Everyone said today was the day you'd make us official," Ami said. "Guess I'll have to wait until you get back, hm?"

Zell bit his lip. "Official? Officially what?"

"Officially boyfriend and girlfriend," Ami said. "They said it was fate that it was going to happen today."

"Oh…" Zell said. "You mean we aren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Ami shook her head. "You never asked."

(So that's what this is all about.)

Zell smiled. "Well, hey. I ain't one to fight against fate. Wanna be my girlfriend? My official girlfriend?"

Ami reached forward and rested her hand atop his. "Yes. Of course I will."

Zell turned over his hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. He'd never before been reluctant to go on a mission, or shy away from a chance to see the world. But for the first time since he first walked through the front gate, he didn't want to leave Garden.

The elevator brought Zell to the third floor, where he stepped into the Headmaster's receiving room. He knocked politely on the door and waited to be admitted. When Cid's voice gave him permission to enter, he opened the door and stepped through.

Inside, huddled around Cid's desk, was the Headmaster and Matron, along with Quistis, Xu, Squall, and Rinoa. Xu had a map spread out on Cid's desk, and was marking something on it with a pen. Squall was leaning over the desk and studying the map.

(Looks like I'm just in time.)

"You weren't gonna leave without me, were ya?" Zell asked. He jogged over to the desk and stood by the others. When they looked at him, he waved and smiled.

Squall straightened up and glanced at the others, then put a hand on his hip. "Actually, we were," he said. "I was just going to make the announcement over the intercom in a few minutes."

Zell jumped, making the same expression he had when Braid dropped the book on the desk.

"Huh?... What?"

"Sorry," Squall said. "It's just me and Rinoa going."

"No point in sending more people than necessary," Quistis said. "All of us have very important jobs at Garden now. We're not just regular SeeDs who can come and go whenever it's convenient for us. We have responsibilities here."

"Yeah… but…" Zell said. He clenched one hand into a fist, struggling to find a good counterargument.

"And you've still got to prepare for your tests tomorrow, Zell," Edea said. "People here in Garden are counting on you."

"I know… but…" Zell said. He clenched his fist tighter, as if he could physically squeeze a good idea out of his brain. So far, it wasn't working.

"Quistis is going to take over command while I'm gone," Squall said. "Rinoa and I are going to be out of communication, but I doubt anything is going to happen here or in Timber. Our spies in Timber have been pretty quiet for a while now. Everyone seems to be in a holding pattern, waiting for the other side to start something. Hopefully that won't change."

Finally all of Zell's straining, sweating, and clenching yielded one valid objection to their plan.

"But… you can't just send two people all the way to Esthar!" Zell said. "You're going by foot, right? It'd take too long. And too dangerous! You need at least three people."

"There's no other way," Squall said with a shrug. "But I think Rinoa and I can handle ourselves."

"If it makes you feel better…" Xu said. She pointed to the map. Now that Zell was closer, he could see that she'd drawn a red line from Fisherman's Horizon, along the Horizon Bridge, through the mountains, and to Esthar. "I found them an easier route past the Great Salt Lake. There used to be service road that bypassed around the lake, back when it was still, you know, an actual lake. If the road's still there, then that will make things quicker and safer than going through the lake, like you did last time."

"Still!" Zell said. He stomped his foot. "You said 'we' were goin' to Esthar. 'We' means 'us,' man!' _We means us_!"

Squall narrowed his eyes in thought. His face relaxed when he remembered the conversation. "Oh, right. Sorry, Zell. I did say 'we' didn't I?"

"Yes, you did!" Zell said.

"I meant Rinoa and I," Squall said. "I didn't mean all of us."

(Aw, man…)

Zell slumped his shoulders, barely supporting his own weight, like a rag doll tied to a post. His head was down, eyes staring at the floor.

"I didn't think you'd get this upset," Squall said. "You seemed excited to be an instructor. I thought you'd want to stay here anyway."

There was a long, awful pause. Squall had a point. A part of Zell—a very large part—wanted to stay in Garden. He wanted to become an instructor and teach hand-to-hand combat to the students. He wanted to stay with his brand new Official Girlfriend—even if her friends were weird. And he wanted to stay close to the Garden in case something did break out in Timber.

But at the same time, he didn't want to feel left out, or left behind. If Squall was going somewhere, Zell wanted to go too.

"Zell," Rinoa said. She stepped up to him and bent over, trying to put her face between Zell's and the floor, so that he could see her. "You gotta promise me something, okay?"

Zell looked at her from the side of his eye.

"Promise that if anything happens in Timber, you'll help them out, okay?" Rinoa said. "You and Quistis gotta watch Timber for me when I'm gone. Don't let anything happen to them. I don't want to leave, but… I have to know about the sorceress that appeared in the cafeteria. And I have to know more about Adel. We'll be back as soon as we can. But you have to promise me, Zell."

Zell grumbled.

"Zell? Promise me," Rinoa said.

He sighed. "Okay. Okay, I promise. Nothing will happen to Timber on my watch." He straightened up and met her gaze. "I swear."

She straightened up as well, smiling and nodding. "Thanks."

"Really, Zell," Squall said. "Don't take it personal. We're not leaving you behind because you're unimportant to us. We're keeping you here because you're too important to Garden."

"Right," Quistis said.

"I'm not takin' it personal," Zell said, even though he was. "I was just… I guess I was lookin' forward to another adventure, you know? Like the good old days."

"The good old days?" Squall said. He crossed his arms.

"Yeah, like when we went to Esthar last time."

"Zell… that was not even a month ago," Squall said. "And the world almost ended last time we were in Esthar. Those days weren't 'good' or 'old.'"

"Tch. Why you always gotta be so serious, man?" Zell said. He shook a fist at Squall.

"He wouldn't be Squall if he wasn't," Rinoa said with a smile.

Early the next morning, Zell and a half dozen other SeeDs stood in the second floor hallway, awaiting the results of the written portion of their instructor exams. Inside the classroom, behind the closed door, Edea was busy grading the tests. There was nothing for the SeeDs to do except wait.

Zell had his hands in his back pockets as he paced a straight line back and forth, back and forth in front of the classroom door. Quistis hadn't been lying when she told him that the test was mostly composed of SeeD protocol and common sense questions, but he'd expected them to be multiple choice or fill-in-the-blank. Maybe True or False, if he was lucky.

In the actual test, Zell and the others were given hypothetical situations, and provided with blank papers to write essays on how they would react in those situations. He didn't know the best answers, so he just answered honestly. The questions seemed like potential real-world problems, and though Zell knew his answers might be foolish, he thought dishonesty would only hurt him in the long run. Better to tell the truth and fail outright, rather than lie and screw up a classroom full of students.

He'd had about a week to prepare for the test, but of all that time available to him, he'd only used the previous night. To his credit, he had been expecting to either get called off to fight in Timber, or brought along to Esthar. It seemed like the odds of him actually having to take the test at the end of the week were rather slim.

But Timber had stayed quiet—or relatively quiet—and Squall and Rinoa had left for Esthar, leaving him behind with his "responsibilities," as Quistis had put it. If he'd known the future, he definitely would have studied. He wasn't one to shirk his duties, but sometimes he got confused as to what exactly his duties were. With all these potential threats emerging around the world, it was hard for Zell to know where to focus. What if he'd spent all his time studying, only to be sent to Timber, and be unprepared for that? Or sent to Esthar, without having combed through the Garden news aggregator first?

Just when he thought the anticipation would make him either explode or go crazy, Edea opened the classroom door and poked her head into the hallway.

"Zell Dincht," she said, before ducking back into the classroom.

"Oh! That's me," Zell said. He froze in mid-stride. "Wish me luck, everyone!"

The other SeeDs mumbled incoherently. Zell assumed they were wishing him luck and stepped into the classroom, shutting the door behind him. Edea sat down at the front desk with a small stack of graded papers next to her. Behind her was a blank screen the size of a chalkboard, for when classes were in session. Edea held Zell's test in her hands, holding it close to her so that Zell couldn't see the grade. He stood across the desk from her and summoned a little more patience to wait for another few moments.

"Hey, you did mine first!" Zell said. He adjusted his uniform collar and dusted off his shoulders. "Is it cause I'm your favorite?"

Edea smiled. "No, it's because Xu is proctoring your next test, and I want to make sure you arrive with plenty of time to spare," she said. "Xu has a lot to do today, and this is the only time she'll be able to take you. Miss this window, and you'll have to reschedule for another day."

"Oh…" Zell said. Even though he was being sarcastic, he was hoping she would say he was her favorite. He quickly forgot his minor disappointment and asked his next question. "Wait, why is Xu doing my next test?"

"Don't you know?" Edea asked. "Her weapon specialty is also hand-to-hand, like you. She's the most qualified to judge your skills."

"Huh… never knew that," Zell said. In all his time at Garden, Zell had only seen Xu a handful of times. And whenever the two met, she was usually engaged in administrative tasks. He'd never seen her fight before, and had never wondered what her weapon specialty was.

(Learned somethin' new today.)

"Anyway, you passed," Edea said, handing him his test. Zell took it and glanced at it, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the "76%" written at the top. He needed a seventy or higher to pass. A better score would have given him more authority in his classes, but as long as he was an instructor and didn't have someone breathing down his neck all the time, he was okay with whatever result he got. With a lowly score of 76, Zell would need to first consult higher ranking instructors or the Headmaster before making certain decisions, but it was a minor inconvenience. He'd have chances to raise his score later, if he chose to do so.

"Not with flying colors," Edea said, "But you did pass, and that's the important part. I'd heard that written exams were never your strong point anyway."

"Yeah, I'm a man of action," Zell said, pumping his fist.

Edea raised an eyebrow at Zell's gesture, then continued. "Some of your answers to the questions were… interesting. Would you really break up a fight between two students by turning it into a training session?"

Zell shrugged. "Why not? I'm supposed to be teaching them how to fight, right?"

Edea smiled. Unlike the secretive smiles of Ami's friends or the shy smile of Ami herself, Edea's smiles were warm and motherly. Whenever she smiled, Zell always felt proud of himself, even when he hadn't done much to be proud of.

"True," Edea said. "Anyway, Xu is waiting for you at the training center. Best run along Zell. And good work."

Zell saluted her. "Thank you, Matron."

"I'm not officially a faculty member; you don't have to salute me," Edea said.

"Eh, I wanted to anyway."

Edea smiled again. "Thank you, Zell."

Zell handed the test back to her, then exited the classroom, all the exhaustion from the previous night of cramming now gone from his body. He leapt through the doorway and shouted, "I passed!" into the hallway. The other SeeDs mumbled congratulations and resumed waiting anxiously for their own results. Zell ignored their lukewarm response and high-stepped his way down the hall and to the elevator.

(The hardest part's over now.)

With the general written part out of the way, all that was left was for him to pass a specialized test of his competency in his specific subject. For Zell, that meant a practical test of his fighting skills and technique, which was a test he was not only confident about, but honestly excited about.

Once inside the elevator, he thought about telling his friends how he passed the written exam. But then, with a rush of sadness, he remembered that most of his friends were gone. Irvine and Selphie were in Trabia, and Squall and Rinoa had taken a car to Balamb the previous afternoon. The enthusiasm leaked out of him, and by the time Zell reached the first floor, he was no longer in the mood to high-step anywhere.

Zell exited the elevator and headed down the stairs to the circular walkway. He considered detouring to the library real quick, to at least tell Ami about his success, but decided against it. It would be a lot more exciting if he waited until after he passed both tests before telling her. Plus, he didn't want to keep Xu waiting. Having to reschedule his practical exam would ruin everything.

He headed down the long, slightly green-tinged hallway into the training center. He stepped through the perimeter doorway and into the secondary paddock that kept the monsters from sneaking into the school. There, standing in the middle of the small field, waited Xu, holding a pen and a clipboard.

Beside her was a tall, male SeeD dressed in a tight-fitting t-shirt and slacks, the definition of his thick muscles showing clearly through his clothes. His hair was blonde, almost translucent, and cropped in a short military cut.

"Hiya, Xu," Zell said, stepping into the middle of the field. The soft dirt slid under his shoes. "Who's this guy?"

"This is Dax," Xu said. She nodded to the muscle man. "He'll be your sparring partner. Dax, this is Zell."

"Awesome," Zell said. "Nice to meet you."

He extended his hand for a shake, but Dax rolled his eyes instead. From the corner of his mouth, he whispered to Xu, loud enough for Zell to hear, "You're making _this_ punk into an instructor?"

By the time the word "punk" slipped through Dax's lips, Zell was already infuriated. A lifetime of suffering trash talk from Seifer had shortened his emotional fuse to little more than a nub.

"_What did you call me_?!" Zell yelled. His voice echoed through the training center. Some creature on the other side of the fence rustled in the undergrowth, slinking away from Zell's shout.

"Damn, he's loud," Dax said, dramatically rubbing his ear with one hand. He looked up and down at Zell. "And skinny. You sure he's a combat specialist?"

Zell balled up the fingers of his right hand and punched the palm of his left.

"Can we fight now?" Zell asked. "I'm ready to fight. Just say the word."

"Both of you, knock it off," Xu said. She pointed the end of her pen at the two SeeDs, her voice filled with iron. "If you two can't control yourselves, I'll remove both of you from consideration."

Zell took a step back, surprised. "Huh? Remove both of us?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"Dax is the second choice, if you fail either of your tests," Xu said. "If you can't pass the tests, he'll be next in line for consideration."

Dax smirked.

"I thought it was just me…" Zell said.

(No one tells me _anything_.)

"It's never just you," Xu said. "That's an important lesson to learn in SeeD. There will always be others ready to take your place if you fail. I find that fact to be comforting, knowing the mission will be completed, even if I am not the one to complete it."

Zell found no comfort in that thought, but didn't say so aloud.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. The lack of sleep and the stress of the past couple of days made him less confident than he felt when he first stepped into the training center. And looking over Dax's impressive physique once more, Zell, for the first time, considered the possibility that this exam wasn't a guaranteed win for him.

"Well, I passed the written test," Zell said, half to himself and half to Xu. "This oughtta be a piece of cake by comparison."

"That's the spirit," Xu said. "And don't worry, you're still the primary candidate. All you have to do is beat Dax and you're fine."

Dax snorted. "_If_ he beats me."

Zell bit back a retort, struggling to control himself. Despite his emotional nature, he knew that he'd never been good at fighting while angry. If he couldn't tamp down his rage, Dax was going to walk all over him.

Xu backed off and stood near the fence, facing the two sparring partners. Zell unbuttoned his SeeD uniform, revealing his regular civilian shirt underneath. He hung his coat from the branch of a nearby tree and, with one smooth motion, pulled down his pants and leapt out of them, revealing his calf-length blue shorts underneath. From inside his two massive pockets, he pulled out his travel-worn red sneakers and his gloves and slipped out of his SeeD dress shoes. Dax stood across from him, arms crossed, impatiently tapping his biceps.

When Zell finished dressing, he stepped into the middle of the field and nodded to Xu. She nodded back.

"Standard Garden sparring rules apply," Xu said, reading a script directly from her clipboard. "No magic, no summons, no items, no junctions. Skill against skill alone. Points will be awarded for successful hits, aggression, and technique. No illegal strikes or holds. Failure to comply will result in instant disqualification. The fight will continue until I decide there is a clear winner. Zell, if you win, you pass the test. If you lose, you fail. Do you understand?"

"Gotcha," Zell said.

Xu looked at Dax. "Understand?"

Dax nodded.

Zell pressed a finger to his forehead and disconnected from his Guardian Force. Without his junctions enhancing his physical abilities, the world seemed to speed up, and Zell felt as if someone had put a heavy backpack on his shoulders. He shook his arms and legs loose, to both limber up and accustom himself to being without his junctions for the first time in days, maybe weeks. He jumped in the air a couple times, getting his heart rate up and his legs warm.

Dax smirked as he got into a fighting stance. "You better hope Dr. Kadowaki has an open bed in the infirmary," he said.

Zell started to reply, but then he felt Xu's icy stare fall on him. They'd already annoyed her enough, and Zell didn't want to push her any further.

(I can't let him get in my head.)

"Let's just do this," Zell said. He raised his fists and got into his combat stance.

Xu nodded, apparently pleased. She wrote down something on her clipboard.

"Zell, are you ready?" she asked. He nodded. "Dax, are you ready?" Dax nodded. Xu raised her clipboard and readied her pen to take down scores. "Begin."

Zell sized up his opponent. Dax stood a full head taller than Zell, with a longer arm reach to match. In terms of mass, they weren't even close to the same weight division, as Dax was nearly twice Zell's size in every measurable way. Maybe if Zell had his battle junctions on, he would be able to compete with Dax's raw strength, but without them, engaging with Dax directly would not only result in a swift defeat, but probably a long stay in the infirmary.

Dax rushed to close the gap, trying to get Zell either to attack or retreat into a corner. Zell circled to his right to escape, and Dax pursued in long strides, controlling the middle of the paddock and forcing Zell to the outsides. An arrogant smile played on the edges of Dax's lips.

After a few seconds, it became clear that Dax wasn't going to make the first move. Big guys like Dax, Zell knew, often liked absorbing their enemy's first attack, then countering with a massive fight-ending strike of their own. That kind of strategy only worked when there was a huge size difference between the two fighters.

(Which… there is.)

Furthermore, the nature of the spar was in Dax's favor. There was no need for him to win the fight: only to cause Zell to lose. If Zell continued to circle around the whole fight, then Zell would be removed from consideration. Zell _had_ to be the first to engage, whether he liked it or not.

(If he's gonna make me move first, then I gotta make my first move a big one.)

Zell narrowed the angle of his circling, spiraling closer and closer to Dax. He kept a careful eye on Dax's body language and his footwork, watching to see if he was going to try to jump and close the distance before Zell had a chance to strike. Dax smiled, and curled his fingers, gesturing for Zell to come even closer still.

When he was still well out of arm's reach, Zell attacked. He dug his feet into the soft soil and leapt, angling his body to the side and flying through the air. He saw as Dax's eyes grew wide with shock a moment before Zell drove both of his heels into Dax's abdomen, just below the ribcage. A wheezing grunt escaped Dax's lips. Dax tried to clamp his arms down on Zell's ankles, but Zell used the recoil from his attack to pulls his legs back, roll on the ground, and spin away before Dax could catch him. He got to his feet and turned around, keeping his eyes on his opponent, expecting a counterattack.

But his blow was far more effective than he anticipated. Instead of chasing Zell down in a fury, Dax was standing where Zell had left him, gritting his teeth and holding his gut with both hands, his knees shaking. Even Dax's muscled abs couldn't absorb the impact of Zell's attack. For a moment, Zell thought his opponent was faking his pain, trying to trick Zell into a hasty follow-up attack, until he saw Dax's eyes watering as he struggled to regain his breath.

(No way Dax would pretend to cry, just to knock me off guard.)

Zell knew then that he had an opening, and he took it. He charged again, running at full speed and drawing his right hand back for a crushing haymaker to Dax's smug face. But pained as he was, Dax was still not out of the fight. Zell saw him brace his feet and move his arm up to deflect Zell's punch before it landed.

When Zell was in range for his attack, he feinted with his right hand and ducked down to his left. Dax, trying to block a haymaker that was no longer coming, moved to Zell's right, leaving a clear opening. Zell drove his fist into Dax's abdomen, hitting the same spot he'd kicked moments before. Dax coughed in pain, but still managed to recover and swing his arms wildly around, forcing Zell to duck under the blow.

Dax's twin fists whooshed over Zell's head, brushing along the tips of his hair. Even wounded, Dax's hands carried the force of a pair of speeding trucks. But he was slow, and as long as Dax couldn't connect, Zell was fine. Zell fired off two quick rabbit punches to Dax's gut and jumped away. Once more, Zell paused and assessed his opponent. He'd successfully wiped the smile of Dax's face and replaced it with burning pain and rage. Dax held desperately to his fighting stance, but was clearly stunned, off-balance.

(I can win this.)

Zell jumped in close to his opponent, twisting away from a heavy, but slow punch, and countering with a quick jab to the chest. Zell's fist bounced off Dax's pecs ineffectually. Now dangerously close to Dax's truck-like fists, Zell circled around and around his enemy, ducking, jumping, and spinning away from Dax's every move and countering with jabs, knees, and elbows to Dax's torso, aiming for that tender spot in his abs.

Zell's relentless assault would have beaten an ordinary foe into submission, but punching Dax was like hitting a concrete pillar. Despite his frenzy, Dax was nowhere near defeated, and any one of Dax's attacks would be enough to drop Zell in a hit. One wrong move, and the fight would end with Zell on the ground, wondering what his name was.

After a minute of punishment, Dax finally tried a new strategy, dropping to the ground and kicking his foot out, trying to sweep Zell's legs from under him. But his movements were slow and getting slower. Zell easily stepped over the graceless attack and booted Dax hard in the spine. Dax lost his balance and fell face first into the dirt, snarling in pain and anger. Zell stepped back and gave Dax time and space to regain his feet.

Shakily, Dax dragged himself up on his hands and knees. Sweat poured down his face, turning his pale hair dark brown. Dirt and sweat and a little bit of blood stained his newly ripped shirt. Dax punched the soil of the training center and roared.

(Uh oh.)

Dax got to his feet in an instant, charging at a dead sprint right at Zell, his arms open wide for a crushing tackle. There was no time to circle away, and no room to duck under or around the attack. Zell planted his feet, raised his arms, and tightened every muscle in his body, hoping to absorb as much of the blow as possible.

Dax threw his shoulder into Zell's chest with the force of a shotgun blast, picking him up off the ground and carrying him several steps backwards. Zell grunted through clenched teeth as all the air escaped his lungs. Despite the pain, Zell managed to focus on what he needed to do.

Before Dax could drive Zell down into the ground, completing the tackle, Zell managed to loop his arm over Dax's head, and put him in a tight headlock. Dax's momentum carried the two grunting and screaming men hard towards the ground, but at the last moment, Zell twisted his body just enough to slam the top of Dax's head into the ground, then land on Dax's head with the rest of his body, using Dax's own strength and weight against him.

Dax's thick skull bashed against Zell's ribs, then skidded along the dirt for almost a full pace. Zell wheezed out what little air was left in his lungs as a ball of pain swept from his torso all along his body. His vision flashed white. But even with the pain, he'd come out the better for that exchange. Zell was hurting, true, but Dax was almost unconscious after that tackle. Dax moaned and went limp momentarily, allowing Zell to rip Dax's arm off from around him and roll away before Dax could recover.

Gasping, sweating, and choking, Zell stumbled to his feet and clutched his sides. Dax was still fighting to get upright, weaving drunkenly when he tried to raise himself up, inevitably collapsing back to the ground. Once more, Zell stepped back and gave his foe a chance to recover. This time, Zell knew, Dax wouldn't have the strength for a surprise tackle.

A shrill whistle cut through the air, startling Zell. He looked to the source and was surprised to see Xu standing a few feet away. In all the tension and excitement, he'd completely forgotten that he was being watched and graded. During those few minutes of combat, nothing except the fight had crossed Zell's mind.

"Enough!" Xu said. "I'm calling it. Zell, you win this fight. Congratulations, you have passed the test."

"OHHHH YEAAHHH OW ow ow!" Zell said. He winced and clutched at his side. "Ow…"

Dax finally managed to stumble to his feet, but still he was far from steady. He slurred his words as he said, "Not… not fair! I was still in that fight! You called it early!" He stumbled around, gasping for air. His face was dirty and streaked with blood. He clung to a nearby tree for balance.

Xu gave him a look. "You were beaten," she said. "Zell was the clear winner in all categories, and you were reduced to wild swinging and desperation attacks. Even if you'd scored a lucky hit at the end, knocking Zell out completely, I would still be tempted to call the fight in Zell's favor. Now, you are dismissed. Thank you for your help, Dax. Go check in with Dr. Kadowaki before you do anything else."

Dax swore under his breath. He shuffled slow painful steps out of the paddock. He pushed open the gate and disappeared into the hallway.

"Psh! Sore loser," Zell said, his confidence once again restored. His side still ached horribly, but he let go of it and pretended it didn't bother him.

Xu stepped forward in front of Zell. "I admit," she said, "I wasn't expecting you to win so easily. Dax is one of our best, especially at sparring."

"Really? He didn't seem so hot," Zell said.

"He doesn't have your experience," Xu said. "He's only been on a handful of missions, and most of them didn't involve direct combat. Anyway, congratulations again. I'll present the results to Headmaster Cid. You are dismissed. I suggest you check with Dr. Kadowaki as well, but I'll leave that to your discretion."

Zell considered his wounds. He didn't think anything was broken, but he wanted to be sure.

(I'll wait until Dax clears out, then I'll go see her.)

"So am I an instructor now?" Zell asked.

"There are no further tests, if that's what you're asking," Xu said. "You'll still have to create a complete lesson plan and submit it to the Headmaster for approval. Also the Headmaster is going to want to speak to you as well. And oh, Quistis said to tell you to hand in your lesson plan as soon as possible, because the Headmaster is pretty fussy about that sort of thing. Just a heads up."

"Aw… I still gotta do a lesson plan?" Zell said. "Can't I just… wing it?"

"It can't all be fun and games and broken bones," Xu said. "Come on. There's still a lot of work to do."

(How long can I stare at a piece of paper before I lose my fricken' mind?)

Zell sat at his desk in his dorm room, tapping the tip of a pencil against a blank sheet of paper. After three hours of pacing, staring, twitching, itching, blinking, sighing, grunting, punching, and napping, he had reached the unavoidable conclusion that he had no idea how to write a lesson plan. That wasn't to say that he had no idea what he was doing. He knew what lessons he wanted to teach his students and how he wanted to teach them. In his mind, he could visualize each movement, how to balance his weight, use an opponent's weight and momentum against them. He understood the "lesson" perfectly. It was the "plan" he was having troubles with.

He assumed that he would just be able to start with the basics and then work with students to improve their skills. Not really a structured, planned class so much as an improvised teaching session. That seemed to suit Zell's style. But the lesson plan was mandatory, and Zell once more found himself outside his comfort area.  
The intercom chimed. He barely heard it over the synchronized tapping of his pencil and his foot. Cid's voice came over the intercom, catching Zell's attention.

"Will Quistis, Xu, and Zell report to my office please," Cid said. The intercom chimed again and shut off.

Zell looked up when he heard his name.

(Huh. Wonder what he wants.)

Cid's voice had been calm and professional, so Zell doubted that it was anything urgent. But the sun had already set, making it pretty late for Cid to be calling together a meeting. Zell's first thought was that Selphie and Irvine had finally figured out a way to communicate with Garden. Then he thought maybe Squall and Rinoa were in touch, maybe with answers about the sorceress incident.

Hoping for either of those two scenarios, Zell rode the elevator up to the third floor and opened the doors to Cid's office. Quistis, Xu, Edea, and the Headmaster were already there and waiting for him. They huddled around Cid's desk.

(Man, why am I always the last one to show up?)

"Sup," Zell said as he approached the others. He stood in front of Cid's desk and waited to hear the word.

"Well, good news and bad," Cid said. "Good news: after all this media blackout nonsense, we finally received a broadcast from Timber. From their TV station no less."

Zell thought back to the last time Timber's TV station had made a broadcast. It had been to announce the new ambassador, Sorceress Edea, in a fiasco that ultimately ended with Seifer teaming up with the sorceress and Zell almost destroying Garden with his big mouth.

(Bad memories…)

"Cool. And the bad news?" Zell asked.

"See for yourself. All three of you," Cid said. He gestured to the computer monitor on his desk. There was a paused video on the screen. Xu, Quistis, and Zell gathered around to watch. Cid and Edea stepped back to give the SeeDs room.

"This is a video that Timber TV station has been broadcasting on loop for the past twenty minutes or so," Edea said. "They're playing it over both radio waves and cable, so pretty much anyone in the world with any means of communication can hear it. For some reason, Galbadia hasn't been able to shut it down, but it's probably just a matter of time before they take this off the air."

(Wow, must be important.)

Cid pressed a key on his terminal and the video began. On the screen, a young woman not much older than Zell was standing in front of a podium. Zell recognized the podium as the same one that had been used when President Deling was making his speech announcing that the Sorceress Edea was to be the new ambassador for Galbadia.

(No doubt that it's the TV station.)

While the set was the same as Zell remembered, it had been heavily vandalized. The Seal of Galbadia on the front of the podium was crossed out with red spray paint, and various signs and slogans were hanging in the background. A Timber National Flag was hung over the backdrop. The wall was charred black in places, with several long gashes in the plaster, hinting that there had been a battle in that room.

The woman behind the podium was dressed in a ragged red t-shirt. Her short blonde hair was tied up with a stained red bandanna. She was slender, but her voice was unnaturally deep, giving her words an intimidating weight. There was a long cut on her right arm, slowly oozing blood the same shade as her shirt. She seemed not to notice.

She gripped edges of the podium with both hands and leaned forward towards the camera. She looked slightly off screen and said, "Are we live?"

There was a muffled affirmative from out of view. The woman adjusted her footing and stared directly into the camera.

"This is a message to the citizens of Timber, and a warning to the government of Galbadia," the woman said. "For seventeen years, the nation of Timber has been trampled, demoralized, and ravaged by the tyrant Galbadian army. Our natural resources have been stolen, our people murdered, and our nation humiliated. But no more."

She slammed her fist onto the podium, making it shake.

"Today, we throw off the bonds of the imperial Galbadian government and reclaim our sovereignty. We have seized control of the Timber TV station, the first step to taking back our country. I am the Sorceress Ciel of Forest Wolf, and I declare the nation of Timber to be free and independent from this day forth!"

A small chorus of applause broke out in the TV station, surrounding the sorceress as she stepped down from the podium, smiling triumphantly. Then the screen went black. The video automatically jumped back to the first frame and paused, ready to repeat the message.

Zell jumped up and looked around at the others. "Wait! She said _sorceress_, didn't she?"

"Indeed," Edea said.

Quistis crossed her arms and asked, "Is she bluffing?"

"It would be quite a dangerous bluff," Edea said, "To claim to be a sorceress when one isn't. If she said that and did not have the power to back it up, Galbadia would swiftly crush her. But seeing as they haven't destroyed her yet—or even managed to take down the broadcast—we suspect that she's telling the truth. This girl is almost definitely a sorceress. We can find no reason for her to lie."

"But… I thought Rinoa was the last sorceress," Zell said.

Edea nodded. "She _was_ the last sorceress. It seems that the incident in the cafeteria was not, as we had hoped, an isolated event. If other sorceresses from time compression have found their way here, to our time, they could have very easily passed their powers on to others, starting an entirely new generation of sorceresses."

"So there could be more out there," Quistis said. "Several more."

"It seems likely, yes," Edea said. "Rinoa and Squall's mission in Esthar has now become of the utmost importance. Discovering the cause—and hopefully the remedy—for this situation is now paramount. The world can ill afford to have a group of untrained and dangerous new sorceresses emerging all at once."

"Not to mention that this girl Ciel has pretty much guaranteed war between Timber and Galbadia," Xu said. "Squall was waiting for the situation to boil over, and I think it we can call this pot officially boiled over."

"But I thought Caraway wasn't gonna interfere?" Zell said. He looked for reassurance from the others, wanting someone to rationalize what was going on. "He said he was gonna stay out of politics and just hang on until the election was over. Right?"

"He still has his career to think about," Cid said. "He cannot allow Timber to violently carve out independence under his watch. For the world's most powerful military to be beaten by a lowly nation like Timber… It'd be the greatest humiliation Galbadia has suffered in living memory. He'd be stripped of his command and very likely run out of the country. He has not made any official announcements yet, but it is only a matter of time. The Sorceress Ciel has forced his hand."

"Oh man," Zell said. "This is bad."

"Yes," Cid said. "It seems SeeD's services will be necessary once more."


	6. Chapter 6: One Step Closer

_**Chapter 6**_

_**One Step Closer**_

(Seifer)

"RAGE!" Fujin said.

"Wha?" Raijin said. Startled, he looked at her. She pointed at the tail of his shirt, where a thin line of smoke rose and curled in the air. Following her finger, he glanced down and saw a single ember burning into his shirt, glowing like a spark. Raijin hollered, his voice echoing in the cave. He swatted at his shirt with his bare hands, screaming again when the hot ember burned his skin. Despite the pain, he slapped the ember again and again—yelping with fresh pain each time—until finally he crushed the fire, leaving a charred semi-circle along the hem of his shirt. He looked at the ruined bit of fabric and whimpered.

A few paces further down the path, Seifer watched, shaking his head.

"Next time, don't be puttin' out a fire with your hands, Raijin," Seifer said.

"But I had to save my shirt, ya know?" Raijin said. He looked at his hand and hissed with pain when he saw the damage. Red, burned splotches darkened his palms and fingertips. "Aw man, that's gonna smart."

"Quit whinin'," Seifer said. "And stay away from the rocks." He turned away and continued deeper into the cave. His two companions followed.

In the fire cavern, the molten guts of the planet pushed their way up towards the surface. Churning lava flows growled on either side of a narrow rocky path, illuminating the cave with a blood red hue. Gases released from the lava formed a thick black haze that stung the eyes and seared the throat. Crowding the sides of the walkway were numerous rock outcroppings jutting up from the lava, blazing hot. As Raijin had learned, even the briefest contact with the rocks could cause skin or fabric to burn. By keeping to the center of the natural walkway, it was possible to venture to the heart of the cavern. Possible, but only barely so.

In his science courses taken at Garden, Seifer learned the role the fire cavern had in creating the island of Balamb. The lava, while it was still hot, made one of the most inhospitable places on the globe. But when it cooled over the course of thousands of years, it formed the grassy fields and the soaring peaks of the tiny island nation. Without the raging heat of the fire, there was no peaceful seaside city of Balamb, there was no Garden. Without the fire, there was no life on land at all, this far into the sea. The island was a tool, and the cavern was its forge.

(Poetic, in a way.)

Balamb Garden used the fire cavern as a test of bravery, strength, and endurance for their cadets. Students wishing to graduate and become full members of SeeD had to first pass a prerequisite in the cavern, journeying into the depths of the cave to find and defeat the Guardian Force that lived there. Surviving the trip and completing the mission proved that one was competent enough to participate in a Field Exam.

The fire cavern was off-limits unless someone was taking the prerequisite. In addition, the prerequisites were timed, leaving cadets with very little time to get in, complete their mission, and escape. That meant that any objects dropped or left behind—personal items, valuables, extra supplies—were often gone for good, as no one would ever come back to retrieve them.

Perfect for any scavengers willing to brave the heat of the island's fiery heart.

"Hey, look!" Raijin said. He saw something shiny in a nearby rock outcropping and reached his hand to pull it out.

"RAGE!" Fujin yelled again, but too late. Raijin closed his hands on the metal object, then screamed and pulled his hand away.

"OW OW OW!" Raijin yelled, flapping his hand in the air and dancing in agony.

Seifer walked over to the outcropping and crossed his arms, glaring at his friend. Raijin blew on his hand to cool it off.

"Raijin," Seifer said, "Tell me you didn't just try to pick up a piece of metal with your bare hands… in a cave full of lava."

"Sorry, man," Raijin said, still wincing. "I forgot."

Seifer turned to the outcropping and saw the object that caught Raijin's attention. He used the tip of his gunblade to snag the item and pull it free. As he pulled it closer to his face, he could see it was a small wristwatch, made of silver or some similar metal. Despite the ravages of time and heat, it was still ticking. Seifer carefully dropped it into the palm of one gloved hand and examined it. The band was warped, but otherwise it was in good shape. It would be worth some money back in town.

Seifer let the watch cool down for a couple more seconds. Even through his gloves, he could feel the heat pouring off the metal. Fujin stepped forward, holding open a cloth sack they had pulled from the Garden's dumpsters. The sack contained all the items they'd managed to scavenge up to that point. When the watch was cool enough to not burn the fabric, Seifer tossed it into Fujin's bag with the rest of their loot.

"Good work, Raijin," Seifer said. "But more lookin', less touchin'."

"Yeah, yeah," Raijin said.

As they went deeper into the cave, the heat and the fumes concentrated. Soon it was nearly impossible to see more than a few steps ahead. Seifer slowed his pace to keep from accidentally walking off the path and into the lava. The black smoke burned his eyes and throat, forcing him to cover his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his heavy gray trench coat to keep from choking. Sweat poured down his face.

Raijin and Fujin followed behind. Fujin copied Seifer's example, covering her face with her blue sleeve. Her eye patch acted like a gutter for the sweat on her forehead, drawing the moisture down the side of her face. Raijin's purple mini-vest made the heat easier to bear, but did nothing to protect him from the smoke. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but was having no success. His coughing and gasping was almost constant.

Among the rocks, fire, and smoke, Fujin was able to find a ring, and a small amount of loose coins. Raijin found a broken sword hilt, and a shiny rock that he dropped into the bag before either of his companions could object. Seifer found a beaten pair of gloves, a ripped backpack, and some sort of computer chip. Each little bit went into Fujin's bag.

The pathway narrowed until it was only a couple paces wide. Seifer could see the end of the trail, where a bright orange glow shone through the smoke, like a lighthouse on a foggy night. Though he was still too far away to see it, Seifer knew that at the end of the path was a circular platform where rocky arches reached up from the lava and over the walkway, forming a natural dome. There rested the Guardian Force Ifrit, awaiting his next challenger.

As GF's went, Ifrit was fairly tame, conversing with humans and offering his services to all who could best him in combat. He wasn't very strong either, and most cadets who made it this far into the cave were able to subdue him in a few minutes. Seifer and his posse had all beaten Ifrit before, during their own prerequisite tests. They still junctioned to him, drawing a part of Ifrit's strength as their own.

(Maybe that's why he's so damn weak. Everyone in Garden's got a piece of him.)

Still, there was no sense in disturbing the old fire GF, and Seifer was ready to get out of the fire cavern.

"End of the road," Seifer said. He turned and started back for the exit. "We're headin' back."

"Finally," Raijin said, slumping his shoulders with exhaustion. "Can't wait to get out of here, ya know?" He coughed violently. He snorted up a wad of mucus and spat it out onto the rocks where it sizzled, evaporating in moments.

"WUSS," Fujin said, her voice muffled by her sleeve. Her one eye glared at Raijin.

"Quit yappin' and keep movin'," Seifer said.

They trudged back up to the mouth of the cave, feeling the temperature drop with every step they took. They kept their eyes open for more treasure, but Seifer was confident that they had found everything worth claiming. This was their fourth journey through the cave, and they found less and less with each visit.

(This is probably gonna be the last trip we make.)

A minute later, Seifer held up his fist above his shoulder, signaling the other two to stop. They did, instantly. With the constant rumble of the churning lava, it was hard to discern any other sounds in the cave, but Seifer could hear the clatter of approaching footsteps. With his hand, he motioned for the other two to hide. A few steps back down the path was an intersection where two rocky walkways met. They retreated to this intersection and escaped along the side route. They went as far down the path as they could, but there was nothing around to block them from view except their distance from the main path and the omnipresent smoke. The three crouched and waited.

Raijin absentmindedly set his hand down on the rocks as he crouched, and was rewarded with another fresh burn. He held his burned hand in his other hand, struggling not to cry out. Fujin and Seifer glared at him.

(Dumbass.)

A few seconds later, two people jogged by: a young boy in a blue cadet's uniform, carrying a sword, and an older girl in a black SeeD uniform with a machine gun. It was obviously the boy's first attempt. He coughed constantly, tears streaming down his face. He struggled onward with faltering steps, fighting against the smoke and heat. Seifer didn't recognize either of them.

"Remember to keep breathing and don't panic," the girl said as they ran through the intersection. "The biggest obstacle to overcome is fear. If you can manage that—"

The two disappeared down the main path without so much as a glance at the three scavengers off to the side. When the two were gone, Seifer stood up, followed by Raijin and Fujin.

"Guess they're runnin' prerequisites again," Seifer said. "Good for them."

"Suppose that means everythin's back to normal at Garden, eh?" Raijin said.

(Never seen someone wear their full uniforms for the prereq, though…)

"Let's go," Seifer said.

Compared to the depths of the fire cavern, it was now easy traveling for the three. Seifer and Fujin no longer needed to cover their faces with their sleeves, but Raijin continued to cough and spit all the way back, as his lungs worked to clear out all the junk he'd breathed in earlier. After another couple minutes, Seifer finally saw a yellow dot of sunshine up ahead. Eager to be out of the inferno, he sped up to a jog, with Fujin and Raijin keeping pace a few steps behind.

He burst outside, shivering with the sudden drop in temperature. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air, savoring the cool breeze. He opened his eyes and saw Xu standing to the side of the cave entrance, holding a clipboard and a stopwatch. Seifer's pleasure vanished, replaced with contempt.

(Oh… Her.)

"Hey, Xu," Seifer said, casually. He coughed, then cleared his throat.

"Seifer," Xu said. Her voice and face were expressionless. "What are you doing in there?"

"High intensity training," Seifer said. He swung his gunblade with a flourish. "Can't let myself get soft, right?"

Fujin and Raijin stumbled out from the cavern, coughing and choking. They immediately saw Xu and stiffened. Their eyes went from Xu to Seifer, then back again. Neither said a word.

"Of course," Xu said. "Wherever Seifer is, Fujin and Raijin aren't far behind. What are you three getting up to now?" She looked at the bag in Fujin's hand, bulging with their scavenged goods. "And what's in your bag?"

"Training equipment," Seifer said quickly. "Boxing gloves. Throwing stars."

Xu raised an eyebrow. "Throwing stars?"

Seifer shrugged. "Hey, I said high intensity training, didn't I? I wasn't kiddin' around."

"You better not have disrupted the prerequisite with your… _training_," Xu said. She pointed an accusatory finger at Seifer's face.

(Watch where you're pointin' that…)

"Psh. Those dumbasses never even knew we were in there," Seifer said. He looked over his shoulder to Fujin and Raijin. "Right, guys?"  
"We vanished like smoke, ya know?" Raijin said, puffing out his chest. Then he coughed.

"NINJAS," Fujin said.

Xu rolled her eyes. "Well, _vanish_ from here. Go away."

"Tch. I'd be more than happy to," Seifer said. "I never really liked you anyway."

Before Xu could respond, Seifer turned and walked away, his posse close on his heels.

"Real mature, Seifer," Xu called after him.

Seifer waved back at her, but did not stop.

"What you got for me today, Seifer?" the junk shop owner said from the back of the room.

"Hey," Seifer said.

The walls of the junk shop were lined with shelves full of miscellaneous trinkets and tools, all covered in a thin layer of dust and cobwebs. Old street signs, shop signs, and posters occupied every open space on the walls. Seifer had to negotiate between open boxes full of silverware sets, collectibles, knick-knacks, and other items in order to get to the counter in the back where the owner—a fat man with handlebar mustache and a stained t-shirt—waited. He nodded to the junk shop owner, then set the cloth sack atop the counter. One by one, he pulled out his loot and displayed it on the counter. The junk shop owner looked down and sneered at each item.

"Crap. Crap. Garbage. Crap. Junk. Crap," the junk shop owner said. "And is that… is that a damned _rock_?"

The owner picked up Raijin's shiny rock and stared at it before dropping back on the counter. It landed with a hard _thunk_. Seifer sighed.

(Damn it, Raijin…)

"Tell me you got something better than this in that sack," the junk shop owner said.

Seifer reached in and pulled out the ring that Fujin had found. He held it between his thumb and forefinger. "This has gotta be worth something, right?"

Seifer dropped the ring into the palm of the junk shop owner's hand. The owner brought the ring close to his face and peered at it with one eye closed.

"Eh, I suppose it would be," the owner said, "If it weren't bent and burned to hell. This is junk too."

He tossed the ring onto the counter with the rest of the stuff. It bounced off a couple items before settling down next to the rock.

"Of course it's junk. You're a junk shop owner," Seifer said, "I thought you'd love this stuff."

"Ha ha, that joke gets funnier every time I hear it. I'll give you a hundred for the lot."

"A hundred gil?" Seifer said with a snarl.

"No, a hundred chocobos," the owner said. "This is junk, Seifer. I don't know where you found this all, but I'm guessing it was a dumpster somewhere."

(Bastard…)

Seifer sighed. The junk shop owner was the only buyer left in town who'd give anything for Seifer's scavenged goods. What was worse, the owner knew he had a monopoly, and refused to haggle. Any time spent trying to talk up the price was time wasted.

"Fine. A hundred it is," Seifer said.

The junk shop owner collected all the things and put them on a back shelf. Then he went to his cash register, punched in "NO SALE," and took out a hundred gil. He set the coins in a stack on the table. Seifer scooped them up and put them in his pocket, adding them to the coins Fujin had found.

"You know, if you really want to make some money…" the owner said.

"I'm not sellin' my gunblade," Seifer said. He narrowed his eyes at the man across the counter and protectively touched the grip of his weapon.

The owner shrugged. "Hey, if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands," he said. "That's still the best thing you've ever brought in here. And what good is it doing you? You ain't a SeeD. The money would help you than the blade. Trust me, carryin' around something like that is just asking for trouble."

"I'm not selling it," Seifer said. "In fact, I'm thinkin' of modding it."

The junk shop owner laughed, throwing his head back and clutching his belly. Seifer waited for him to stop, glaring at the man.

(The hell's so funny?)

"With what money?" the owner said, still fighting down chuckles.

Seifer scowled, but ignored the owner. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it and laid it on the table. There, in black ink, was a picture of a phoenix, wings spread wide as it rose from a blaze at its feet. The phoenix started the fire, and the fire created the phoenix in a cycle of endless destruction and rebirth. Seifer liked his drawing. Normally art wasn't his thing, but after a few dozen tries, he'd been able to make a picture he was proud of, something he was willing to permanently brand on his gunblade.

A symbol—representing his ideals, his vision, himself.

"How much to put this on my gunblade?" Seifer asked.

The junk shop owner pulled the design across the table and examined it. "Both sides of the blade?"

Seifer nodded.

"Custom designs are four thousand a side," the man said. "It'll take me a day or two. Cash up front. No refunds."

"Four _thousand_?" Seifer said. He punched the countertop. "You've got to be frickin' kidding. You have designs here for only a couple hundred. I've seen them."

"Those are premade designs that come from a kit," the junk shop owner said. "They're cheap designs for cheap people who wanna look cool. If you want a custom design, then I have to do all the etching freehand, and that takes time and money. Four thousand."

(He's tryin' to scam me.)

Seifer shook his head. "Damn ridiculous. No deal."

"Look, if you want it done right, you won't get it any cheaper than that," the owner said. His voice became an indignant growl. "Maybe you can find a place that'll do it for one or two thousand. _Maybe_. But those people are hacks, and they'll botch the design. Your nice little phoenix here will end up lookin' like a diseased turkey roasting on a campfire. Or worse, they'll wreck the blade entirely, and you'll have to buy a whole new one. Four thousand is the best offer you'll get for quality work."

Seifer held his gunblade with one hand and picked up the empty cloth sack with the other. "I'll think about it."

"If it's an issue of money, we can work something out," the owner said. "I actually need someone to help around the store, if you're interested. If you do good work, I'll etch your blade for free."

"I'm not lookin' for a job."

The man raised his eyebrows and snorted with derision. "You need money so bad that you'll go diggin' in the fire cavern for it, but you're too good to work at a junk shop? The hell's wrong with you, kid?"

Seifer turned and walked away, moving through the boxes and junk to the door. "I don't need a damn job."

He threw open the front door and stepped outside. The door banged on the wall and slammed itself shut. The owner would probably be angry about that, but Seifer didn't care. Since there wasn't anything left to find in the fire cavern, his business with the ugly old hick was finished.

(As if I'd ever work for that bastard…)

The sky was blue, fading to orange, spotted with seagulls turning wheels in the sky. The air smelled of salt, and the sounds of the waves raking the shores, the bells of buoys, and horns of ships heading to the docks reached all the way up the hill to where Seifer stood. Past the houses, through the narrow streets, Seifer could see glimpses of the sea, with boats speckling the horizon.

Growing up, Seifer had always heard nothing but praise for the town of Balamb. It was "peaceful," people said. That was the word most often used to describe it. They said it was beautiful, the people were kind and courteous, the food was excellent. Tourists came from all over the world, and, when asked, most claimed that they never wanted to leave. Balamb, they said, was somehow outside the world, unaffected by its problems. Here in Balamb, a person could truly get away from it all.

(But no one ever talks about how damn boring it is. You don't hear _that_ in the travel brochure.)

Balamb was a city happy to do nothing. Most of its permanent residents worked on fishing boats. They were drunkards, the lot, and if one gave them half a chance they would tell the same damn stories about the same damn places and the same damn ocean. Seifer never knew it was possible for so many different people from so many different eras to all share the exact same story. All tales of adventures on the high sea were identical:

"We almost died, but then we didn't."

A storm came up, the waves crashed, the ship took on water. Things looked grim, but the storm passed. It was all the _same_. The stories they told about their times at port were no better. All the port cities were the same. There were no more exotic locales to discover, no unusual people to meet. All the cities and all the peoples had been intermingling for decades. There was no mystery left in the ocean, but the sailors were too stupid or too drunk to realize that the romance of the sea was as dead as the fish in their nets.

(Everything's the same.)

Seifer turned around a corner, heading down a street that looked like every other street in Balamb, past houses that looked like they tumbled off an assembly line. All the houses in Balamb were built half underground, their front doors just below street level, as if the houses were cowering, hiding from some unknown threat. Peering over the lips of their entryways to see if it was safe to come out yet.

Late afternoon was one of the most active times of day for Balamb. "Active" in this case meant that Seifer passed a total of three or four people on his way to his destination. Past the Balamb Hotel, but not quite all the way down to the docks was a stout, two story tavern. It was frequented by sailors and tourists alike, being equally close to the docks and the train station, which kept the business high enough to afford regular paint jobs and maintenance, so the tavern was one of the few buildings not cracked and flaking from the relentless erosion of the salt air. Seifer pushed open the door of the tavern and stepped inside.

It smelled of stale beer, fish, and oil. The yellow light of the tavern came from a handful of dim lightbulbs smeared with a film of grease. A short bar at the far end had a rack of alcohol bottles and a cracked mirror. A few uneven tables dotted the rest of the floor, populated by the tavern's regulars.

Though Seifer hated the tavern, he had to admit that it had become one of their most reliable sources of income. Fujin and Raijin's specific talents proved useful in the bar, and could usually earn them enough money in a day to keep themselves fed, and keep a room at the hotel.

Fujin had taken a liking to demolishing people at cards. She was one of those players who had become so good over the years that she no longer needed to be good anymore. Her personal deck was so impressive that it was mathematically impossible for all but the most skilled players to beat her. The only downside was that it was illegal in most of the world—including Balamb—to bet money or valuables on a card game. However, placing the cards themselves up for stakes was not only common, it was an expected part of the game. By winning games and cards, Fujin could then turn around and sell off her winnings to collectors and enthusiastic children. It didn't earn much, but it was better than nothing.

Seifer found her in a corner at the far end of the tavern, slouching in a chair across the table from her latest victim. The man she played against sweated as he stared at his deck, analyzing every possible move. Fujin didn't even look at her cards, instead watching the man with one half-lidded eye. The man finally laid a card down, nervously. As soon as it hit the table, Fujin randomly grabbed a card from her own deck and slapped it down, claiming the man's card. She didn't even need to see her own card; she knew it was better than his. The man dropped his last card into place, and Fujin instantly took that as well. It was like smashing a bug with a cruise missile: sheer overkill.

The man swore aloud, as if his defeat was somehow a surprise.

Fujin claimed her winnings: a single card chosen from the man's deck. She eyed her opponent.

"AGAIN?" she asked.

The man glared at her, perhaps threateningly. Fujin met his gaze, knowing she would win both a fight and another game of cards—whichever the man chose. Finally realizing he was beaten, the man broke and looked away. "No, I've had enough for today," he said.

He gathered the rest of his cards and pushed his chair away from the table. He stood up, mumbling, and crossed the room, walking around Seifer and out the tavern door. Seifer moved over and claimed his vacant seat. He leaned his gunblade up against the wall.

"Get anything good?" Seifer asked.

"GARBAGE," Fujin said. She stuffed her cards in a small black box and put it in her pocket. "YOU?"

Seifer shook his head. "We did lousy today, Fuge," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small handful of gil he'd gotten from the junk shop owner, plus the coins they found in the cavern. "All that stuff only got us a hundred gil."

"RING?" Fujin asked.

"Too wrecked to be worth anything," Seifer said.

"WATCH?"

"Wrecked too."

Fujin rolled her eye.

Seifer turned his head and saw Raijin sitting a few tables away. Raijin's antics and easy-going manner made him quickly bond with drunks. Once he built up a rapport, he'd invite them to play any number of bar games that he knew. For some reason Seifer was never able to deduce, Raijin was almost supernaturally good at almost every bar game ever invented. Currently, Raijin was flicking single gil coins into an empty glass with his burned fingers, landing them dead center every time. The glass clinked with every successful hit.

"That's twenty!" Raijin said, standing up and raising his arms in victory. "I win!"

The three other men at the table swore, but were too drunk to be angry. Each pushed a small pile of gil towards Raijin. Raijin scooped up his winnings and tucked them into his pocket. "Pleasure doin' business, ya know?"

Seifer sighed. Raijin's stupid little bar games were actually their best source of income. The local drunks were terrible at keeping track of how much they lost in a night, and as long as Raijin kept winning and kept them entertained—two things Raijin was particularly skilled at—they would keep throwing gil at him. It was never much, but along with the rest of their meager earnings, it was slowly building up a savings. Soon, the three would finally have the money to leave Balamb.

(As soon as we figure out where the hell we wanna go.)

After everything that had happened between Seifer, the Galbadian military, and the sorceress, he'd be lucky if he could ever set foot on the Galbadian continent again. Fisherman's Horizon was famously welcoming of strangers, but they—being strict pacifists—would have frowned at his gunblade and the way he used it to solve many of his problems. There were a plenty of small towns around the world where he would be able to live out the rest of his life in peace and anonymity. But he desired neither peace nor anonymity. He wanted a fresh start, to begin his life anew. To chase his dreams all over again. Not to sit in some unknown village and wait to die.

More than anything, he wanted mercenary work. Earning his living with the edge of his blade. That was what he'd been trained all his life to do, and what he was best at. But Garden had that industry cornered, and they weren't interested in Seifer's services.

(Their loss.)

Raijin noticed Fujin and Seifer sitting in the corner. He said something to the three drunks, something that sent them all into roaring laughter, then shuffled over to Seifer's table. There were only two chairs at the table, so Raijin snagged a third from an empty table and spun it around, taking a seat. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his arms.

"What's our take today?" Raijin asked.

"Crap," Seifer said. "We probably looted the fire cavern for all its worth. The way things're goin', we might as well stay in here all day. You guys make more money scammin' the tourists than we do at the cavern."

"LAME," Fujin said.

"Fuge's right, ya know," Raijin said. "Can't just sit around in a pub all day. Gotta get out and stretch our legs."

"Ain't nothing on this damn island but the fire cavern and Garden," Seifer said. "If you want, we can start trying to work over some SeeDs. They all got money, and not a hell of a lot of brains."

Fujin and Raijin shook their heads. Though the three had never discussed it, it was understood that their association with Garden was officially concluded. Their fate lay on a different path than SeeD's, and they had little desire to make those two paths intersect.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Seifer said. "It might be high time for us to leave this hellhole. Don't think there's any point in us staying here longer."

"FINALLY," Fujin said.

"Good riddance, I say," Raijin said.

Seifer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The other two leaned forward as well.

"So where should we go?" Seifer asked. "We can't go to Galbadia or Esthar. Fisherman's Horizon is full of wimps. What else is there?"

"TRABIA?" Fujin asked.

Seifer paused. Trabia Garden hadn't occurred to him. It was remote, and the students were unlikely to know anything about Seifer's past. He would be able to make up any story he liked, and they would be unable to verify it. Also, since they were one of the Gardens, they were bound to have more interesting jobs than what could be found in Balamb.

(Long as they don't know about me and the sorceress…)

"Ain't Trabia just a crater now?" Seifer asked. Fujin shrugged. "Eh, I guess it's worth a look. Okay, Trabia is one option. Anything else?"

The three thought for a moment. Fujin closed her eye, Seifer tapped the table with a finger, and Raijin stroked his chin.

"Hey, ya know, what about the Shumi Village?" Raijin asked. "We could—"

"Hell no," Seifer said.

"IDIOTIC," Fujin said.

Raijin held up his hands. "Okay, okay. It's just an idea… Jeez…"

The tavern door opened with a bang, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Seifer and his posse turned their heads to see the new arrivals, more annoyed than startled. In through the door walked a man in a tight red uniform, which Seifer instantly recognized as the suit of a Galbadian officer.

(Why's he here?)

On the man's shoulders was a set of gray electronic shoulderpads, which served as a sort of mobile computer. Seifer never bothered to learn all the various functions of an officer's equipment, but he knew that they had the ability to keep short burst radio contact with other officers and soldiers. Atop the officer's head was a silver helmet with a reflective visor, obscuring his identity.

Behind the officer were two Galbadian soldiers, regular grunts in solid blue uniforms. Seifer was quick to notice that none of them carried weapons, which was unusual. He knew enough about the G-Army to know that their weapons were almost as much a part of their uniforms as their pants and shirts. To see them out in public without their swords and wrist-guns was bizarre. To see them in Balamb—of all places—was even more bizarre.

(Somethin's up.)

Seifer raised his guard, expecting a trap. He grabbed his gunblade and rested it across his lap, tightening his grip on the pistol-shaped handle. Following Seifer's lead, Raijin picked up his staff from the floor and Fujin pulled out her chakram and held it in one hand under the table.

"If I could have everyone's attention," the G-Officer said. His voice was high-pitched, whiny, and didn't command much authority. Memories of Galbadia's occupation of Balamb were still painfully fresh in the citizens' minds. They gave their attention to the wimpy officer and his two grunts, but Seifer could see the anger and rebellion simmering in the people's eyes.

Apparently the officer could see it as well. He paused and cleared his throat softly, making him look even weaker. "We're here on a peaceful mission," he said. His voice cracked. "As you can see, we are unarmed." He and his men raised their hands, showing them to be empty. "We have identified a possible sorceress threat in Balamb, and we are trying to deal with it as quickly as possible, then we will leave. If we could please have your cooperation…"

There was a long pause. No one moved or spoke.

"Thank you," the officer said. "This will only be a moment."

(Sorceress threat?)

Seifer hadn't heard anything about any sorceress threats. But then again, news was slow to reach Balamb, if it ever reached it at all. None of the hotels had cable access, so Seifer had to rely on word-of-mouth to hear news of the world. He looked to Fujin and Raijin, but their bewildered expressions showed him that they hadn't heard anything either. Whatever it was, if it involved a sorceress and Galbadia, it almost certainly meant a fight was on the horizon.

(Good.)

"If we could just speak with any women in attendance," the officer said. He scanned the dim tavern, but he saw nothing but men until his eyes crossed the room and settled on Fujin. He nodded at her. "Ma'am, if you would come speak with us outside."

He walked between the tables, stepping around bar patrons and chairs, keeping his hands limp at his sides. He stopped a couple paces away from their table.

"Ma'am, it'll just be a moment," the officer said.

Fujin looked up into his face and scoffed.

"NO," she said.

The officer swallowed again. Seifer couldn't see the man's eyes behind his mirrored visor, but his body language indicated gave away his fear. Seifer raised his gunblade a little higher on his lap and sneered, letting the officer get a good look at how long and sharp the blade was.

"It-it will only take a couple minutes," the officer said. "Please, it's for the good of everyone. The sorceress is a threat to us all—Balamb and Galbadia alike. We're not accusing you of anything. We just—"

"Pretty sure she said no," Seifer said. "You gonna disrespect a lady?"

He made a point of resting his free hand across the blade of his weapon, stroking it like a sleeping cat. The officer's head turned to Seifer, then angled down to look at his gunblade. The two grunts behind the officer took a few steps forward to support their officer, their bodies tense.

(That's right. Come a little closer, you dumbasses. Just another step or two oughta do it.)

The officer held up his hand to keep his men back. They stopped, letting the officer continue. "We don't want any trouble. It will only take a second, and then you'll be free to go."

"NO," Fujin said.

The tavern's owner behind the bar shuffled towards the far end of the counter. Whether he was secretly making his way closer to the tavern's kitchen or just trying to get his body as far away from the scene as possible, Seifer couldn't tell. From the corner of his eye, Seifer could see the rest of the tavern's patrons had their boots on the floor, their hands on their chairs, ready to bolt in an instant. They all watched the conversation as it unfolded.

"What's this about?" Seifer asked. "Why're you here?"

The officer licked his lips, then took a deep breath. Struggling to keep his voice even, he said, "There is a possible sorceress threat in Balamb. Like I said. We need to question the women of this town to see if anyone knows anything. That is all."

"She ain't a sorceress," Seifer said. "And she don't know anything about a threat in Balamb. Go look somewhere else."

The two G-Soldiers behind the officer exchanged a worried glance, but held their ground. "Please," the officer said. "It will just take a moment."

"WHY?" Fujin asked.

"Exactly," Seifer said. "Why can't ya ask now? Why does she have to go outside? The bar not good enough for you?"

"It's…" the officer looked at his men. He turned back to the posse and lowered his voice. "It's… because we have to test if she's a sorceress."

(Like hell.)

"Tch. That's impossible," Seifer said. He waved his hand dismissively. "There's no way to know for sure. Even friggin' Odine never figured out a way to do it."

"We can't tell for sure if she _is_ a sorceress," the officer said. "But we can tell for sure if she _isn't_. It's just a quick, harmless scan. Please. This is for the good of Balamb."

Seifer's curiosity was piqued. He had never heard of any test that could establish, with any accuracy whatsoever, whether or not a woman was a sorceress. The magical energies associated with being a sorceress defied most technologies, and no reliable magical method had been discovered either. Every method proposed was either easily beaten by a real sorceress, or unreliable to the point of being no more than a guess.

"How does this test work?" Seifer asked. He was both intrigued to know the answer, and amused watching the officer sweat and squeak his way through explanations.

"It—it checks for magical energies in the person," the officer said. "It scores false positives if that person junctions magic, of course, but it helps us narrow down the field. If they come up negative, then we know for sure that they aren't a sorceress."

Seifer looked at Fujin, and she returned his gaze. All three of them were still junctioning their old magic from SeeD. It wasn't much anymore—battles with monsters and the events of the past few weeks had drained their stocked spells—but if the test was at all reliable, then it would easily detect Fujin's magic. It might be possible for her to exchange her magic with someone else, but she'd never agree to that.

(No way in hell is Fuge gonna give up her junctions.)

Seifer turned back to the officer, lowering his voice into almost a growl. "And what do you do if a person tests positive?"

The officer's voice began to rise as his fear gave way to anger. "If I tell you, will you agree to come with?"

Fujin didn't hesitate. "NO."

The officer took a step back. "Look, I've been _more_ than reasonable with you three," he said. He reached up and pushed a switch on his shoulderpads. A hiss of static came from a speaker on his shoulder. He turned his head to the speaker and said, "I'm going to need backup at the tavern—"

Seifer was up in an instant, driving the handle of his gunblade into the officer's gut, in an unprotected spot right below where his chest armor stopped. Seifer felt the satisfying squish of the man's abdomen under his weapon. The air escaped the officer's lungs in a high squeal of agony. With his free hand, Seifer thrust his fist into the officer's chin, his junction-augmented strength breaking the man's jaw like a dry twig. The officer was thrown back, crashing into the empty table behind him. The table flipped over, and the officer collapsed to the ground in a heap of chairs and spilled condiments. His limbs curled up like a dead spider, and he was still.

The radio on the officer's shoulders crackled for a moment, then went quiet. Both G-Soldiers, stunned by the sudden and brutal violence, stood frozen, staring at Seifer and their fallen officer. Duty to the military called for them to fight, fear of pain and death called for them to flee. They did neither, allowing Seifer plenty of time for his next attack.

(Psh. Rookies.)

In one smooth sweep, Seifer flipped his sword around, blade facing out, and swung his gunblade in an arc parallel to the ground. It connected with the nearest G-Soldier, catching him right in his armor plating, denting it. With practiced precision, Seifer pulled the trigger on his pistol as the blade connected. A round discharged in the gun's barrel.

Instead of firing a bullet like a normal gun, the gunblade instead used the force of the internal explosion to amplify the strike. The shot of the gunblade, coupled with Seifer's supernatural strength, hurled the soldier halfway across the tavern. His flight was interrupted by a table, which split in half, sending plates, utensils, and two bar patrons tumbling to the floor. The soldier's body rolled to the floor face down, and he moved no more.

Seifer turned to the second soldier and brought up his boot, leveling a devastating kick to the second G-Soldier's groin. The man stumbled back a couple steps, clutching his wounded manhood and moaning as he crumpled to the ground. With the soldier curled in a fetal position, Raijin calmly stepped up and drove the end of his staff onto the soldier's helmet, crushing it like a tin can. With that, all three G-Soldiers were dispatched, lying insensate on the tavern floor.

The whole battle lasted less than ten seconds.

The tavern was still, the patrons locked in the positions they'd been sitting in since the Galbadians first arrived. The two people Seifer had knocked over when he threw the G-Soldier stumbled to their feet, scratched but not seriously injured. By the expressions around the room, Seifer could tell they were debating if they should be glad the Galbadians had been dispatched, or worried about the three who had just won the battle.

"CHIVALROUS," Fujin said. Her one eye expressed a mix of amusement and sarcasm. Through it all, she had never moved from her chair, though her hand still clutched her circular weapon, ready for action.

Raijin looked around the room, at the frightened faces and ruined tables. He turned to Seifer. "What now, Seifer?" he asked.

Seifer rested his gunblade on his shoulder. He took a moment to consider his answer, then said, "We finish what we started. Can't have Galbadia bargin' in like they own the place."

He strode for the door, his heavy gray trench coat flapping dramatically behind him. Fujin and Raijin followed a step behind. Before he exited, he turned and faced the bar patrons. "Enjoy your drinks everyone. This'll be over shortly."

With that, he opened the door and the three stepped out into the street.

Seifer expected to see a squad of Galbadian Soldiers. Maybe a whole platoon or two. Even when Sorceress Ultimecia had absolute control of the military, she sent only a single company of two hundred soldiers to occupy all of Balamb and search for Ellone.

But the force brought down to bear upon the town of Balamb was far more than two hundred, and nothing less than extraordinary. Up the street, dozens of blue-uniformed soldiers canvassed the roads, knocking on doors and escorting women and girls from shops and houses. Looking between the buildings, down the hill towards the ocean, Seifer could see a horde of Galbadian soldiers clogging the docks. Dozens of Galbadian ships patrolled the bay, escorting Balamb's ships back to port with guns and artillery trained on the fishing vessels.

A block from the tavern, the women were sent to line up along the wall, where a Galbadian officer waved an electronic device over them. It looked like a gray brick with a light affixed to the end. After running it quickly up and down their bodies, the light would flash green, at which point the girls were ushered up towards the train station, to what was presumably a quarantine area. A thick wall of Galbadian soldiers prevented people from crossing into the quarantine without having first been cleared by the officer.

(They ain't even fighting back. Whole town's full of sheep.)

"No way…" Raijin said, his mouth open.

"EXCESSIVE," Fujin said. She slashed her chakram through the air to emphasize her point.

"No kidding," Seifer said. "Why'd they bring half the damn army to friggin' Balamb?"

(SeeD. Garden.)

Before Seifer could finish the thought, he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw three G-Soldiers approaching him, making a direct line for the tavern. They saw Seifer's group and the weapons in their hands and doubled their pace.

"Stay right there!" one of the soldiers said.

Seifer smirked and called out to the three, "Don't worry. I ain't gonna move."

(If Balamb won't fight back, then I'll do the fighting for 'em.)

He reached out his free hand towards the approaching soldiers and concentrated. He focused his mind inward towards himself. He summoned up the magical energy that he had stored within his Guardian Force, and then mixed it with his anger, his frustration, his humiliation. All the feelings that had defined his life in the past few weeks were poured into the spell. Sparks and flashes of light formed in the palm of his hand as the energy took shape. The three Galbadians had enough time to realize what he was doing, but not enough to react.

Seifer imagined what his enemies would look like if they were on fire. With a simple exertion of will, he didn't have to imagine anymore. Flame shot from his hand in a ball nearly the size of Seifer himself. It hit the nearest of the three Galbadians and exploded, sending a rushing inferno up and down the street. An instant later, there were three charred bodies and a black stain where the soldiers had been.

"ALERT!" a nearby Galbadian shouted. "EVERYBODY TO THE TAVERN!"

The soldier rushed away from the tavern, repeating his warning again and again, drawing the attention of the Galbadian hordes up and down the road.

Fujin threw out her chakram. It rolled along the ground on the edge of its circular blade, gaining momentum as it went. It found the G-Soldier who was sounding the alert and ran up his leg, along his body, and shot straight upward into the sky, the teeth of the chakram shredding a thick, red line deep into the soldier's entire body. He collapsed, spurting blood, as Fujin's chakram spun back into her grasp.

"Let's see what Galbadia's been up to out here," Seifer said.

All around the city, Galbadian warning cries were echoing through the salt air, filling the quiet town with shouts. Calmly, Seifer marched up the street towards the quarantine area and the testing station. Fujin and Raijin walked on either side of him, their placid, expressionless faces contrasting the growing panic among the soldiers. A few blocks away, Galbadians scrambled, repeating their warning cries and preparing for battle.

Seifer kept his eyes open and scanned around him. He expected to be ambushed immediately after the alert had been raised, but Galbadia had something different in mind. Instead of charging at him in ones and twos—as was their normal attack method—they instead withdrew and gathered their forces, readying to attack in one large mass. Seifer could see them gathering in a nearby alley, and down the street behind him. The soldiers around the quarantine area held their ground, trusting in their numbers to save them.

(Hmph. They're learning.)

Seifer marched up to the line of women pressed against the wall. They shrunk away and hid their faces, terrified of both the Galbadians and of Seifer. He ignored them and continued forward towards the officer that held the testing device. The officer raised his free hand. Around his wrist was a thick, gray device nearly as large as his helmet, with two small barrels poking out the front. Seifer recognized it as a Galbadian wrist gun, standard issue for the army's officers.

"Stop right there!" the officer shouted, planting his feet and taking a broad shooting stance, aiming for Seifer. Seifer and his posse did not slow. "Damn it, I warned you!" the officer said.

He angled his hand downward to keep it clear of his weapon and braced himself to fire. At the same time, Raijin spun his staff in his hand and cleared the distance between himself and the officer in one inhumanly long leap.

The officer had just enough time to gape in horror before Raijin dropped—staff first—into the officer's chest, throwing him straight back and into the line of G-Soldiers that formed the perimeter of the quarantine. A half dozen soldiers were knocked to the ground by the impact of the limp officer, and the rest were in stunned disbelief at Raijin's incredible jump.

Seifer seized the moment and broke into a sprint. Fujin's chakram raced past him, sawing open another Galbadian in one swipe before returning to its mistress. Seifer pounced on the nearest soldier, slashing up diagonally with his gunblade and pulling the trigger. The shot from his gun echoed through the street and sent the soldier flying into his comrades. Seifer stomped on a fallen Galbadian while Raijin plunged into the crowd with another superhuman leap.

Together, the two used the Galbadians' close formation against them. The soldiers were packed too tightly to effectively counterattack without harming each other, and every soldier Seifer or Raijin sent flying knocked several more to the ground, creating waves of confusion and piles of bodies.

Seifer charged forward, plunging the tip of his blade into and through a G-Soldier. He swung around and threw the soldier off his sword and into two more. Another G-Soldier rushed at Seifer's side. With his gunblade, Seifer swatted away the soldier's sword with a snort of contempt and sucker punched the soldier in the jaw, sending him staggering back into another soldier, both collapsing to the ground.

Raijin stormed through the group like a tornado, spinning his staff in all directions, parrying sword strikes from the Galbadians and breaking legs, arms, and skulls. From a distance, Fujin flicked out her chakram again and again, slicing up any soldiers smart enough to try to circle around behind Raijin and Seifer.

In a matter of seconds, the quarantine had completely collapsed, and all the guards who had been protecting it were dead or lying limp on the ground. Red rivulets ran between the cracks in the brick street, heading down the hill towards the sea.

Beyond the line of bodies was the pack of quarantined women. Mothers clutched at their daughters, families huddled together in terrified clumps. They stared at their three rescuers.

(And not a word of thanks…)

Seifer jerked his head at them. "Scram," he said.

Slowly, nervously, the women crept past Seifer and his bloody posse, moving back into the streets. Seifer turned around to face the city and the growing mass of Galbadians up and down the road. The stairs leading to the train station was at his back, and all the Galbadians in Balamb were ahead.

"Is that it?" he yelled at the soldiers, massing down the road. "The rest of ya'll too scared?"

He received no reply. The army of soldiers added more and more to their ranks, flooding the main thoroughfare of Balamb with their numbers. Officers strode through the crowd, directing soldiers, pointing at nearby buildings. Soldiers ducked into alleys and began taking flanking positions.

"SOON," Fujin said.

"Ya, they're comin' quick," Raijin said.

Seifer snorted. "Bring 'em on. Go get that thing the officer was carrying. I wanna see how it works."

Fujin walked towards where the officer had been testing the women. She bent over and picked up the little gray brick from the ground. She turned it over in her hand, examining it. Stepping over bodies, she returned to Seifer and handed him the device.

As she reached out to hand it to Seifer, she paused. With her one eye, she looked at a building on the other side of the street. Seifer had just enough time to wonder what she was looking at when every nearby doorway bust open at once, pouring G-Soldiers from every threshold. Soldiers rappelled from the rooftops and poured from the nearby alleyways. The train station, which Seifer had assumed was empty of soldiers, poured forth legions of blue-clad warriors with swords.

In moments, a ring had formed around the posse, at least six or seven soldiers deep in some places. Their total numbers were beyond count. All had their swords pointed out towards Seifer and his crew, forming an impenetrable circle of steel.

Seifer raised his gunblade defiantly and addressed the soldiers. "Who wants to die first?"

Even as he spoke, more Galbadians poured out of doorways, from the train station, and up from the docks, swelling the horde by hundreds at a time.

(Well… Damn…)

"Um… Seifer?" Raijin said. He held his staff out, ready to fight, but his face looked hopeless.

"SCREWED," Fujin said.

Seifer knew he'd only have a couple of seconds to come up with something before the soldiers broke on them in a crushing wave, so he went with the first plan that came to mind.

He looked at Raijin and whispered, "When I say go, grab Fuge and jump for the roof of the ticket office, then get outta here. Got it?"

"Wha?" Raijin asked. He looked at the squat ticket office, only a few steps away, but blocked by a thick wall of soldiers.

"Just do it!" Seifer turned away from Raijin, curled his hand into a fist, raised it to eye level, and looked at the Galbadians. "All right, you bastards. Ya'll wanna see a magic show?"

He focused his rage again, twisting up his face in a snarl of anger and hatred. His energy focused in his fist, making his hand glow white, as if he clenched the sun itself in his grasp. A couple of brave Galbadians started to come forward, to try to interrupt his spell, but Seifer thrust his glowing fist at them threateningly, making them leap back to the safety of the group.

(Wimps.)

When the spell was complete, Seifer howled in fury and triumph, then spun and faced his two companions. In one smooth motion, he stretched out his hand like he was throwing a ball. The energy flew from his grip and hit Fujin square in the body, ruffling her clothes and encasing her in a flash of light. A moment later, she began hovering slightly above the ground, like a feather caught in an updraft. Confused, she looked at her feet, then at Seifer.

"WHAT?" she said. She narrowed her eye at Seifer.

The power of the anticlimactic spell was so profound that the soldiers were stunned. Seifer smirked and looked at Raijin. "Go!" he commanded him.

Unthinking, Raijin grabbed Fujin around her waist with one arm, bent his knees, and did his special jumping trick. The spell that Seifer had cast made Fujin as light as the air itself, and her normal body weight did not slow down Raijin at all. In fact, a portion of the spell bled over to Raijin, extending his jump even further.

In one bound, he leapt up and over the Galbadian horde and to the roof of the ticket office. He hit the roof hard, recovered, then leapt again, launching the pair out of sight.

(Perfect!)

The shock still registered on the soldiers' faces, but Seifer knew it wouldn't last. Once his friends were safe, he focused his energy again for another spell, hoping he had enough time to cast it. He knew he wouldn't be able to bluff the Galbadians again.

The soldiers saw what he was doing and broke out of their trance, charging at him in one massive swarm. He swung his gunblade one-handed, still focusing his thoughts on his fist. Furious swipes of his blade cut down one, two, three, five, seven soldiers, but the wave of bodies was irresistible. Before the spell was complete, they were on top of him.

Hands seized his blade, his arms, his legs, his hair. They tugged in all directions, bruising his skin, drawing blood. Seifer's strength allowed him to wrestle off a few hands, but not enough. Soon his gunblade was ripped from the fingers of one hand, while the energy of the spell faded from the other. Feet and fists drove repeatedly into his side, his back, and his stomach, forcing him to his knees. He snarled in pain and rage, still swinging his fists even though his efforts were beyond futile.

After nearly a minute of struggling, the soldiers finally worked his arms behind his back. Another soldier produced a set of metal handcuffs and locked Seifer's wrists together. Another set of cuffs linked together his ankles. An unseen hand reached out and grabbed him by his hair, tugging his head upward so that his bruised eyes could look into the face of a Galbadian officer. Like all the others, the officer's face was obscured by a silver visor.

Dispassionately, the officer said, "You're Seifer Almasy?"

"Tch. Never heard of 'im," Seifer said.

The officer kicked Seifer in the gut, blasting the air from his lungs. Refusing to show even the slightest amount of weakness, Seifer morphed his pained grunt into a crazed laugh, barking and gasping like a madman in the street.

"A free… free massage," Seifer said, still choking and laughing. "This vacation has everything."

The officer straightened up, grinding his teeth. "You're damn lucky I recognize you, punk. You're only alive cause of me. You think the others wouldn't kill you if I let 'em? Huh? It's my word that keeps you alive, and if you wanna _stay_ that way, you'll shut the hell up."

Seifer smiled, recovering his breath. "I didn't know I had fans in the military. Uncuff me and I'll give ya an autograph."

The officer ignored him, turning to face the soldiers who were restraining Seifer. "He's the one. Take him to command. All of you." The officer gestured to a cluster of at least two dozen soldiers. More than were necessary to escort a single prisoner.

(Not taking any chances.)

The soldiers pulled Seifer to his feet. He felt at least ten hands gripping his arms and shoulders as he was shoved into a shuffling walk into town, his stride shortened by the cuffs around his ankles. He looked around the soldiers to find out who had his gunblade, but he couldn't it see through the teeming mass of blue uniforms. Then he looked up to the ticket office where he'd last seen Fujin and Raijin. There was nothing there but empty sky.

(Don't give up, Fuge, Rage.)

Seifer had marched down the streets of Balamb as an orphan, as a Garden cadet, as leader of the Galbadian military, as an exile, and now, finally, as a prisoner. Though his every muscle ached, his face bled from multiple cuts, and his hair was a tangled blonde mess, he walked with the same pride he'd always had, as if he was the one leading the soldiers to the dock, rather than the other way around.

Out in the ocean, Seifer could see that the Galbadian ships had organized to form a large semi-circle around the bay of Balamb, completely cutting off sea access to the port town. Seifer's eyes narrowed.

(A blockade? The hell's going on here?)

Down at the docks, Galbadian soldiers swarmed. They unloaded supplies from docked ships, and processed a group of women who had apparently not passed the sorceress test. The women, like Seifer, were bound in handcuffs and sitting on crates, guarded by dozens of soldiers. Their broken, dejected faces were cast down to their feet.

Seifer's captors brought him down a pier that was almost empty. A single ship was docked at the end, and a Galbadian officer stood waiting, tapping his feet and watching the soldiers work from behind his visor. When he saw Seifer and the guards approach, he stepped forward.

"The hell are you doing?" the officer said. "We're only supposed to bring suspected sorceresses back. No men. Got it?"

(So that's what they're doin' with the girls who fail the test.)

(At least Fuge got away.)

One of the soldiers released his grip on Seifer and saluted. "Sir, he's Seifer Almasy, sir."

The officer was startled. "Oh. Well then, yeah, bring him aboard. Did you find any other targets?"

(Targets?)

"Nothing so far, sir," the soldier said.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would," the officer said. "Strap him to the deck, then go back to your duties. Hurry it up."

The soldier nodded. A ramp extended from the deck of the small ship down to the dock. The soldiers forced Seifer up the ramp and onto the deck. Lining the deck were about a dozen metal chairs facing forward, with iron restraints around the legs and the armrests. The soldiers pushed Seifer down into one of the chairs, then shoved his arm into one of the restraints, locking it around his wrist. They un-handcuffed him and wrestled his other arm into the second restraint. They repeated this process with his legs and ankles.

Once he was secured, the soldiers disembarked and returned to the docks. Bound as he was, Seifer couldn't turn his head back around to see Balamb, so he looked forward, watching the sea and examining at the Galbadian blockade.

After a few minutes of waiting, he heard footsteps climb onto the deck, then approach him. He turned as far as he could and saw a Galbadian officer coming towards him. The officer stopped a few paces away.

(All G-Soldiers look the same…)

"Seifer Almasy," the officer said, his arms crossed. Judging by his voice, he wasn't the officer from the train station or the one from the dock. "You know how many good soldiers died because of that crap you and the sorceress put us through? Do you know the cost of that completely useless war you started?"

"Do I know or do I care?" Seifer asked. He shook his head. "Nevermind. Answer's the same either way."

The officer scowled. "Bastard. The Headmaster has no sympathy for sorceresses, or their so-called 'knights.' You won't be so damn cheeky when he gets through with you."

(Headmaster?)

"Your day is coming, Almasy," the officer said. He stepped down from the ship, followed by Seifer's mocking laughter. When Seifer could no longer hear the officer's footsteps, he stopped laughing.

He looked down at his restraints. Although the grunts and the officers were morons, he had to admit that the military supplied them with decent equipment. The U-shaped metal bands had adjustable locks, tightened enough so that he couldn't squeeze his hand through. He might still be able to conjure a fire spell, but everything on the deck of the ship—the seats, the floor, the railings—were metal and wouldn't burn. None of the other spells in his stock would be much help either.

(Damn…)

He sat on the deck for at least an hour, feeling the waves gently rock the ship back and forth. His back began to ache from sitting in the hard chair. His wrists and ankles chafed in the restraints. His nose itched maddeningly, but he couldn't scratch it.

Through the din of shouted orders, insults, and general small talk, Seifer could pick up bits and pieces of what the soldiers were saying. He was especially interested in what they were doing with the women who had failed the sorceress test. He heard mention of bringing them south, but no clear destination was ever spoken. He twisted his head around to look, but could only manage this position for a few minutes at a time before his neck cramped.

In time, he learned that the women were tested several more times and interrogated. Those who passed the secondary tests were set free and brought back to the city with escorts. Those who failed repeatedly were brought to the deck of a much larger ship on a dock across from Seifer's.

Nearly a half dozen potential sorceresses had been brought from the docks up onto this ship before Seifer heard footsteps on his own boat. Soldiers entered into a hatch in the back of the ship, and soon the engines sputtered to life. The dull vibrations coursed through his body, relaxing his sore muscles. The soldiers unmoored the ship from the dock and sped out to sea.

Out of curiosity, Seifer twisted himself into the uncomfortable backwards-facing position again to watch as Balamb faded into the distance. He was surprised to see that the soldiers were now all swarming on one spot. A second later, screams emanated from the docks. In the distance, Seifer could just barely see Fujin's blue clothes and Raijin's dark skin, as they fought their way through the flood of soldiers, mounting a desperate rescue attempt. He could see, in Fujin's hand, the testing device they'd stolen from the officer. In Raijin's free hand was Seifer's gunblade.

Seifer smiled.

(Keep fightin', guys.)

He knew they didn't stand a chance of freeing him. Already he was almost to the blockade, and even if Fujin and Raijin managed to steal a ship, they'd never be able to catch up with him. It was okay though. Seifer had never needed to be rescued before, and this time was no different. His only concern was for Fujin and Raijin. How would they escape now?

Soon the docks were too far away to make out any details. The whole of Balamb faded into one bluish-gray mass nestled in the green fields of the continent. The ship passed through the blockade and continued out to the ocean, the tiny transport ship dwarfed by the Galbadian warships. Seifer turned and faced forward, to watch where they were going.

For several minutes, there was nothing but the endless ocean and Seifer's thoughts. Then a large dot became visible on the horizon, growing larger and larger by the second. Seifer squinted his eyes to see what it was through the glare of the fading sunlight. When he saw what it was, he snorted.

"Well, didn't think I'd see them again," he said.

There, in the ocean, was the hulking red mass of Galbadia Garden.


	7. Chapter 7: Up to You

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Up to You**_

(Quistis)

DELING CITY AUTHORITY

A NEW SORCERESS THREAT!

General Caraway has been forced to alter his military strategy after yesterday's revelation that the recent Timber uprising is being led by a woman who claims to be a sorceress.

What was initially a routine operation to shut down dissent in the rogue nation of Timber has become more difficult with the introduction of a sorceress to the situation. The powers of a sorceress are not fully understood and as such, any real sorceress must be dealt with carefully, to prevent catastrophe.

General Caraway released a statement this morning in which he responded to the rebel leader's claims.

"Although her claim has yet to be validated," the General said, "We cannot risk our soldiers' lives with careless action. If she does prove to be a sorceress, then the nature of the situation in Timber—and our necessary response to it—changes drastically."

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THE RIFLEMAN QUARTERLY

FIREARMS STANDARD ISSUE AGAIN!

General Caraway announced today that mass production of rifles and other firearms will continue until the situation in Timber is appropriately dealt with.

Rifles and machine guns have not been standard-issue military weapons in Galbadia since the early days of President Deling's administration. Although the technology proved invaluable during the Sorceress War against Esthar, prohibitive manufacturing costs plus a spike in stolen arms being used against Galbadian citizens forced President Deling to switch to the now standard-issue Galbadian Military Saber.

Production of firearms resumed under the brief reign of Sorceress Edea, who insisted on reviving the technology to help in her war against SeeD. Delays in manufacturing prevented her from ever using the weapons on a massive scale, but production reached 100% just in time to assist in quelling the Timber insurrection.

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Ordinarily, Quistis would not be concerned about The Rifleman Quarterly, a small hobbyist newsletter published out of Deling City, but the implications of Galbadia using long-range weapons again had serious consequences on SeeD and the war effort in general.

For many years, SeeD had enjoyed a natural advantage over the Galbadian military. By using magic to stay out of reach of the military's swords, SeeDs could effectively respond to the overwhelming numerical superiority of the G-Army. One well-trained SeeD was easily worth ten or twenty G-Soldiers in a battle.

(But if that advantage is about to be taken away…)

Quistis was about to click the link for more information about Galbadia's rifles when the chiming of the intercom made her pause and listen.

"Will Lieutenant Commander Quistis report to my office," Headmaster Cid said. "Quickly, please."

The intercom shut off. A few others in the library glanced up at Quistis, curious, then resumed their work, scribbling away on notebooks or typing at the other computer stations. She pushed a button on her keypad and shut down her station, then pushed her chair away from the computer and began striding rapidly out of the library and towards the elevator.

She kept her face calm and rigid, despite the tension in her mind. The Headmaster rarely asked anyone to come to his office quickly, and when he did, it was always for a good reason. Her first thought was that Selphie and Irvine—or maybe even Squall and Rinoa—had made contact with Garden. But while both of those were important events, and things Quistis would definitely want to be alerted about, neither of them really demanded any haste.

(Unless something is terribly wrong at Trabia or Esthar.)

Worry tightened Quistis' stomach. She fought it back with sheer willpower and cold logic. While it was possible that maybe some emergency had arisen in Trabia, or maybe Squall and Rinoa had learned something critical about the sorceress in the cafeteria, something that couldn't wait a single moment, both scenarios were unlikely.

That left two options: either an emergency update in Timber, or perhaps news of another time compression sorceress appearing somewhere in the world. Quistis feared both of these outcomes, and hoped for another possibility. But she couldn't think of anything else.

She moved up the steps towards the elevator, taking them two at a time, then pushed the elevator call button. It arrived a moment later and brought her up to the third floor with a soft chime. She hurried across the reception room and saw that Cid's office door was ajar. Without bothering to knock, she pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside, her shoes clicking across the marble floor.

Cid, alone, sat in a leather chair behind his desk. Quistis tried to read his expression to see if she could guess the situation before the Headmaster revealed it, but his face betrayed no emotions. She stopped just shy of his desk and saluted.

"At ease," Headmaster Cid said. Quistis relaxed, and the Headmaster went on. "Let me be quick. A representative from Timber is on the line right now, with the intention to form a contract with SeeD. I wanted you to be in attendance for this. Please," he said. He gestured to his side. "Come back behind the desk. I want you to be a part of this."

(A representative from Timber?)

Quistis was confused. Galbadia had managed to effectively block off all communications to and from Timber shortly after the first hints of a Timber rebellion. Even the handful of SeeDs inside Timber had incredible difficulty relaying information back to Garden. For the people in Timber, communications with the outside world were almost impossible. So how had they managed to contact SeeD? Even though the sorceress had reclaimed the TV station, that would only give her the ability to broadcast radio transmissions, not connect onto the HD cables.

Curious, Quistis stepped around Cid's desk and stood next to his chair. The monitor on his desk was currently black, but an icon flashed in the corner indicating that there was a live video call on hold.

"Are you ready?" Cid said to Quistis. She nodded, then raised her chin and straightened her back, trying to look as professional as possible. Cid turned to the screen and pushed a button on his keypad, revealing the monitor again.

On the screen was a familiar sight: the Sorceress Ciel, still dressed in her ragged clothes, a red bandanna tied around her head. Nothing about her appearance had changed since her broadcast the previous day. The only thing different at all was that now the background had changed. Instead of being in the Timber TV station, the sorceress was now in a white, non-descript room with no windows or other features. It was impossible to guess her location from the video alone.

She sat, looking just off-screen, tapping her finger on the desk before her. Her eyes flicked to the camera in front of her when the call reconnected.

"Sorry about the delay," Headmaster Cid said. He gestured towards Quistis. "This is Lieutenant Commander Quistis Trepe. She is acting Commander of SeeD at this time."

"Okay," Ciel said. She offered no greeting, or welcome, or any consideration at all. She scratched a spot underneath her bandanna and seemed impatient for the conversation to continue. Quistis frowned.

(I expected more courtesy from her.)

(At least a "Hello.")

Cid didn't seem to notice the sorceress' poor manners. "We would like to hear your offer," he said.

She grunted. "I already—"

She looked at the Headmaster, then at Quistis. She sighed, closing her eyes. She looked exhausted. "We're asking for help getting Galbadia out of Timber. We want to hire SeeD."

A number of questions jumped into Quistis' mind. Who, specifically, was this "we" she mentioned? What did she plan to offer for SeeD's services? Where was she broadcasting from? All these questions and more begged to be answered, but Quistis started with the question that seemed most important to her.

"Is this line secure?" she asked.

"If it wasn't, I'd be dead already," Ciel said. "Or, at least, the Galbadians would be beating down the door right now, trying to kill me."

"How is that possible?" Quistis asked. "How'd you get a line from the TV station out of the city without Galbadia noticing?"

Ciel smirked. "After all this is done, I'll write a book about all the things Galbadia doesn't know about Timber. This is our city; they just occupy it."

"What does that mean?" Quistis asked.

"It means that it's a national secret," Ciel said. A petulant whine crept into her voice, totally unbecoming of the strong, focused image she had projected in yesterday's broadcast.

(Is this even the same person?)

The sorceress continued, "And it doesn't matter anyway. As far as can I see, how we're communicating is totally irrelevant. I mean, what does it matter, really?"

Quistis' initial awe of the sorceress began fading into anger and disappointment. In the broadcast, Ciel had seemed powerful, confident. Quistis had been momentarily swept up in the wave of revolution, for the first time believing that not only was Timber going to fight, but they were going to fight with a real chance to win. Quistis had looked forward to meeting this girl, to working together to free Timber.

Now that Quistis had the time to really get a good look at the sorceress, it was obvious that she was younger than most SeeDs at Garden. She seemed fifteen, maybe sixteen at best. Hardly old enough to be a great leader.

(She's probably only the leader because she's the sorceress. I doubt she ever commanded much authority before now.)

Still, young or not, any sorceress could drastically alter the course of Timber's future. By her sheer power, she could win the war, even without SeeD's help. Although the sorceress was less than Quistis' had imagined, she was still immensely powerful and deserved consideration.

Quistis swallowed down her annoyance and continued the conversation. Cid sat by and watched his young Lieutenant work.

"What are you offering in compensation for our services?" Quistis asked.

Ciel shrugged. "What do you want? I mean, what's a good offer?"

Quistis sighed in exasperation.

(Not only do we have to do all the work, we have to do all the negotiations as well.)

But Cid, who had previously handled all the negotiations for SeeD up until this point, had experience with clients like this. He smiled politely and said, "Well, give us a starting point, and we'll negotiate from there."

"Umm…" Ciel said, biting her lip. She looked off screen at someone or something beyond the camera. She blinked, inhaled, and frowned, but did not respond. Cid waited patiently. Quistis crossed her arms, ready to be disappointed yet again.

Finally, Ciel turned back to face the camera. "I don't… know what prices you usually charge?" Ciel said, raising her voice as if her statement was a question. "What would you expect for a mission like this?"

Cid responded. "Well, what you're asking for will take the majority of our available forces, if not the whole of SeeD. Depending on an individual SeeD's rank, we ask anywhere from five hundred to thirty thousand gil per student per day."

Ciel's jaw dropped. "Thirty… per _student_?"

Cid smiled and brushed off her concerns with a gentle wave of his hand. "Few SeeDs have ranks that high. In truth, they average around eight thousand or less each."

Ciel was not comforted. Her face slackened into dull shock. "Eight thousand each," she repeated in a monotone voice. "Per day."

Cid nodded, still smiling. "And let's just, for the sake of easy math, say we have two hundred SeeDs at our disposal. That comes out to a little more than a million and a half gil per day. Sound reasonable?"

Quistis looked at the Headmaster, at his smiling, paternal face. It was clear to her that Ciel had entered into a negotiation that was far beyond her means, yet Cid kept pressing on, as if the girl was right on the same page as him.

(Is the Headmaster trying to talk her out of hiring SeeD?)

It was possible. Maybe the Headmaster was just as disillusioned with the sorceress as Quistis was, but years of experience had shown him how to back out of a negotiation without refusing a client directly. Maybe he was subtly convincing her to abandon her ambitions to hire SeeD, for her own good, and the good of SeeD itself.

Quistis didn't know how she felt about that, but she trusted Cid's judgment in any case. Quistis wanted to help Timber, but she wasn't sure about the wisdom of helping this young sorceress who had more power than sense.

(Seems like trouble for everyone involved.)

Ciel laughed in breathless disbelief. There was a note of hollow defeat in her voice as she replied to Cid's offer. "I'm… I'm sorry. All of Timber couldn't foot that bill."

Cid spread his hands, showing his palms. "You asked me to provide a number to start with. We can haggle from here."

Quistis' anger towards the brash sorceress softened a little, turning into pity as she empathized with the situation Ciel had put herself in. She'd started a war with a superpower, publicly broadcasted her face to the world, and dared anyone to try to stop her. Now she was realizing the cost of her actions, and how grossly she had underestimated the ramifications of war.

(Freedom comes at a high price.)

(It's unfortunate, but true.)

"Don't think that this is the end of the negotiation," Quistis said. "Tell us what you can offer, and we'll decide if we can take it. We are quite flexible."

Ciel shook her head. "If you guys are expecting a million and a half gil a day, then there's no way I can bring you down to the price I was hoping for."

"And what _were_ you hoping for?" Quistis said, crossing her arms.

Ciel winced. "Umm… three thousand a day?"

"Per student?"

"For… all of SeeD," Ciel said. She laughed nervously.

And in that instant, all the pity Quistis had gathered collapsed, returning back to the anger she felt before.

(That's not being naïve. That's being outright ignorant.)

"You're asking us to risk our lives in battle for you," Quistis said. She spoke slowly, tamping down her frustration. "And you expect to compensate us with pocket change?"

Headmaster Cid held up a hand to settle Quistis down. "Please, let me handle the numbers. If it's for a good cause, I'm willing to lose a little bit of money."

(We'll lose more than just money.)

A series of beeps came from the monitor. Quistis and Ciel both heard the beeps and looked confused. Cid smiled again, ever calm, ever placating.

"It appears we have another caller," Cid said. "We're rather popular today. I can dismiss this caller if you want to continue the discussion."

Ciel was visibly relieved. "No, actually… you should answer it. We… we need to talk this over. Don't hang up on me, okay? I'll be back. One sec."

Cid nodded. "I'll just put you on hold for now."

"Thanks," Ciel said.

She pushed back from the desk and was standing up as Cid leaned forward and tapped a button on the keypad. The screen went black for a moment, except for a blinking red light in the corner and the text, "Incoming Call." Cid pushed another button, revealing detailed information about the caller.

"It's from Deling City," Cid said. He looked at Quistis. "No doubt it's General Caraway."

(At least he'll know how to negotiate with SeeD.)

Quistis nodded. "He most likely has an offer of his own to give us. I don't plan on accepting any missions from Galbadia, but we should at least hear him out."

"My thoughts exactly," Cid said. But instead of answering the call, Cid rose from his chair and offered his seat to Quistis. "I think you should handle this alone. Without me, this time."

"What? Why?"

"If the General is offering SeeD a contract, then it is your duty to respond," Cid said. "Remember, the SeeD Commander makes the final decisions concerning missions now, not the Headmaster."

Quistis stepped back, unconsciously putting a hand to her chest.

(I can't negotiate with the leader of the Galbadian military!)

Cid smiled yet again and offered his chair. There was no backing out. The longer Quistis waited, the more frustrated Caraway would be when she answered the call. Reluctantly, Quistis slid into the leather chair. The padding exhaled as her weight pressed into the cushion.

(This is too much, too fast. I'm not ready.)

"But… you are the one who can negotiate a price," Quistis said. "When it comes to our rates, I honestly don't know much more than Ciel."

Cid raised an eyebrow. "Is there any price in the world that would make you consider siding with Galbadia over Timber?"

She thought for a moment. Quistis knew that it was morally right to side with Timber. They were a weak nation, unjustly conquered and occupied by a tyrant military and stripped of all powers and freedoms. If there was any justice in the world, then SeeD would back Timber without question.

But after Ciel proved that she and the rest of her organization, however many people it consisted of, were unable to meet SeeD's prices, Quistis realized that what was morally right and what was smart were not necessarily the same thing. If Timber could only offer a pittance for the blood of SeeD, then what was the point in being a mercenary force at all? Why not just work for free, if morals held more weight than money?

She was about to say that yes, yes there was theoretically a price Galbadia could offer that would make her reconsider her allegiance, but she could see in the Headmaster's eyes that that wasn't the answer he was expecting.

Instead, she said, "No. No there is no price."

"Then you do not need me," Cid said. "Be courteous, but firm when dealing with him. He is unlikely to be accustomed to having people refuse him."

Cid stepped away from the computer and stood on the other side of the desk. "If you need me, I'll be right here. But if you don't, then pretend I'm not here. If he asks, tell the General that I am unavailable."

Quistis nodded and took a breath.

"How do I answer the call?" she asked, looking blankly at the array of keys on the keyboard. His setup was different from the way the consoles in the library worked, and had a number of colored buttons of indiscernible function.

"The green button, right there," Cid said, pointing at the keyboard. Quistis pressed the button, and the red "Incoming Call" message on the monitor changed to a green "Connecting Call," message. Quistis waited a moment, composing herself as the call connected.

The message on the screen vanished, replaced by General Caraway's face. As usual, he was dressed in his full military uniform. A window behind him looked out over Deling City, the shapes of the city buildings blurred through the glass. Quistis didn't recognize what room he was in, but the décor matched what Quistis remembered from her brief stay at Caraway's mansion.

General Caraway nodded. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Quistis said. She tightened the muscles in her neck and chest, to better control her breathing and the tone of her voice. She was nervous, but didn't want Caraway to know that.

"I'd like to speak to the Headmaster of Balamb Garden," Caraway said. "We have important business to discuss."

Out of the corner of her eye, Quistis saw Cid shaking his head.

(Pretend he's not here.)

"I am the ranking SeeD official at the moment," Quistis said. "I will be able to speak with you concerning any business you may have."

General Caraway frowned and adjusted in his chair. "I'm not in the habit of discussing foreign policy with teenagers. If the Headmaster is available, put him on the line."

(Well… I wanted to speak with someone who had more authority than the sorceress. I certainly got my wish.)

Instead of being intimidated by Caraway's dismissal, Quistis drew strength from it and answered sternly, "I am the ranking official. If you want to speak with SeeD, then you want with speak with me."

She could see Cid smile, but she didn't react.

"You're joking," Caraway said. He looked into Quistis' emotionless face and sighed. "You're not joking. I knew SeeD entrusted a lot to its youth, but this is going too far." He waved a hand, as if brushing away a fly. "It doesn't matter. This will not be a negotiation so much as a statement of facts. I don't need the Headmaster himself, only someone who can relay a message to him."

"Go ahead," Quistis said.

The General laced his fingers on his desk and looked Quistis directly in the eye. "As you are no doubt aware, the situation in Timber has recently… let's say, 'escalated beyond the limits of diplomacy.' That seems an elegant way to phrase it. In any case, it seems that nothing less than a show of force will return Timber to a peaceful state. Is SeeD aware of my offers of peace towards the Timber rebels?"

(What you offered could hardly be called "peace.")

She nodded. "We're aware of the speech you made, and the general situation surrounding Timber."

"Good," Caraway said. He paused and examined Quistis' face. "You're familiar. I don't remember your name, but I do remember that you were part of the Gateway Team during the operation in Deling City. Am I wrong?"

Quistis noticed how he was being careful not to say what that operation was, or give any hint as to when it happened, or what it was meant to accomplish.

(Is he afraid someone is eavesdropping on the conversation, or is he just naturally cautious?)

"My name is Quistis, and yes, I was part of that team," Quistis said.

"Then you should know that I am a man devoted to his country," Caraway said. "I will do what is necessary to defend Galbadia. While I regret that peaceful negotiations have failed, I will not back down from a threat to my nation. In the interest of preserving our unity, I wish to employ SeeD's services in cutting down the rebellion in Timber."

(As if Timber is the one threatening Galbadia, instead of the other way around.)

Quistis paused for a moment, and considered his offer. Galbadia surely had the strength to overwhelm the tiny nation of Timber. Why would they bother hiring SeeD to do their dirty work? Furthermore, it was rather odd that both Timber and Galbadia, after days of silence, suddenly both petitioned SeeD's help. Not only on the same day, but within minutes of each other.

(Is something going on, or am I just being paranoid?)

(Maybe the connection with Ciel isn't as secure as she thinks…)

Hoping to learn more, Quistis said, "State your terms."

"We have learned from past experience that an assassination attempt against a sorceress is maybe not the best course of action," Caraway said. He looked at Quistis knowingly, but didn't elaborate.

"Furthermore," he said, "Subtlety is neither needed nor desired in this situation. We intend to storm Timber, reclaim the TV station, and eliminate the sorceress, effectively neutralizing the uprising and putting an end to all this nonsense. A direct assault will do more towards breaking the rebellion's spirit than secrecy and murder plots. SeeD's role will be to assist our soldiers in putting down any unruly citizens and helping corral and ultimately destroy the sorceress. You will be paid according to the number of SeeDs you choose to employ, and also the duration and effectiveness of their service. We can discuss exact gil amounts now if you'd like, or we can save that for the future."

Quistis nodded. Now that he had made the offer, she was eager to be rid of him as quickly and tactfully as possible. She'd hoped, distantly, that he had a more peaceful plan in mind. But seeing as how he wanted—not only to fight Timber—but to crush their spirit, Quistis found her desire to negotiate with the Galbadians evaporating by the second.

"Understood," Quistis said. "We will need to discuss this before we accept any large-scale missions from Galbadia."

Caraway snorted dismissively. "As I suspected, you don't have the authority to negotiate with me. You're wasting my time. Put the Headmaster on."

Quistis controlled her emotions, with some difficulty. "I have the authority, General, but it is SeeD protocol to not accept major missions without due consideration. We have the health and safety of our students to consider."

Caraway didn't seem impressed. "Fair enough," he said. "However, you might choose to keep your 'due consideration' to a minimum, as we plan on moving on our enemy soon."

"How soon, exactly?" Quistis asked.

Caraway appeared insulted. "I will not discuss details of the mission until you have agreed to work with us."

(He's not as foolish as Ciel.)

(…Unfortunately.)

Quistis nodded. "I will speak with the others and we will reply to your offer shortly." Quistis reached for the red "End Call" button, but was stopped by Caraway.

"Before you go," he said, raising a single finger. "There is one more thing I would like to add."

Quistis dropped her hand and turned back to the screen. "Yes?"

"I am aware of the fact that SeeD tends to favor Galbadia's enemies," Caraway said. "In the past month or so, you have lent aid to Dollet, resulting in a number of Galbadian casualties, and you have also given your services to terrorist organizations in Timber as recently as a few weeks ago. But whatever Timber offers you, rest assured that we can offer far more."

Quistis suppressed her emotions again, to keep from giving him any information he didn't already have. She wasn't surprised that he knew about the operation in Dollet. That had been a large-scale mission involving dozens of SeeDs and cadets openly fighting in the streets of the city. It would be odd if Caraway didn't know about that.

But the operations in Timber were discreet, like most of Garden's missions. SeeD thrived on secrecy, dressing its operatives in civilian clothes when on most missions so as to not arouse suspicion. It would be potentially fatal for SeeD if the world knew how SeeD chose to use its resources, and how its students were employed. Best if people never found out.

So having Caraway confidently accuse SeeD of working with Timber put her on guard. There was no way he should know about that, as Squall's recent mission was confidential, carried out with secrecy.

(He might be trying to trick me into a confession.)

"In the case of Dollet," Quistis said, "You launched a surprise attack on a sovereign nation and began an unnecessary battle, resulting in destruction of property and the loss of civilian lives. You can hardly fault us for siding with Dollet. As for the claims that we have aided Timber terrorists, we have done no such thing."

Caraway's expression turned to ice. "Do not lie to me. You see, Quistis, when you employ children to do your work, childish mistakes are made. During the operation in Deling City, your leader let slip that he and the rest of you were under contract with my daughter Rinoa."

The memory of that incident came immediately to Quistis' mind, filling her with a sudden sense of guilt and fear. She'd been caught in a lie. On top of that, SeeD's secrecy and integrity had been compromised.

She remembered the moment in question. She and the others were in Caraway's drawing room, discussing the mission to assassinate the Sorceress Edea during her parade. Squall had only meant to inform Caraway that his first priority was his client, Rinoa, and not the Galbadians. It was a simple statement, but it revealed too much, and Caraway had not forgotten it.

(Oh no… Squall…)

"I don't know what idiocy drove him to tell me that," Caraway said, "Especially in the middle of another operation. But I know that my daughter is part of the anti-Galbadia movement in Timber. Therefore, I have an admission—from a SeeD member himself—that you have in the past, and most likely continue, to aid forces which seek to overthrow the Galbadian government. Knowing this, I have taken the appropriate measures to ensure that you do not interfere with our coming operation."

"What do you mean?" Quistis asked. A sinking sense of despair washed over her. She felt weak and vulnerable as the General spoke.

"I have sent troops to Balamb to seize the train station and prevent all transport from Balamb to Timber," Caraway said. "In addition, I have sent a number of Galbadian vessels to prevent any ships from leaving Balamb harbor."

Quistis was astounded and, for the first time, she let her shock and anger register plainly on her face. "You… you can't do this. This is an invasion of Balamb's sovereignty, and nothing short of an act of war."

"This is already a war, Quistis." Caraway said. "And we are not acting against Balamb: we are acting to prevent SeeD from assisting known terrorists. Balamb is only an unfortunate bystander."

(Even though he once claimed he wanted to stay out of politics, he is acting quite boldly.)

"So you're forcing our cooperation?" Quistis said. "Sending troops to coerce our decision?"

"No, not forcing. You have two options," Caraway said. "You can accept my offer of an alliance, in which case the Galbadian troops in Balamb will gladly escort you to Timber, where the mission will begin. Or you can choose to remain neutral, and stay on Balamb Island until this issue is resolved. You do not have to aid us. Only stay out of our way. It's not coercion: it's guidance."

"This is an outrage," Quistis said, her composure slipping. If Cid, still standing nearby, was trying to give her any assistance, she was utterly unaware of his attempts, having focused entirely on the conversation at hand. "Everything in your speech about peace and diplomacy was a lie. You're a warmonger, like Deling before you."

"You should control your temper, Miss Quistis," Caraway said. He began speaking very slowly, very deliberately. Each word was given its own emphasis. "Let me make something absolutely clear. You and your organization are not a threat to Galbadia. We have permitted your existence for all this time because we believe you are a true mercenary force, one whose allegiance is to money, rather than to any one government. We believe, if necessary, we can simply purchase your loyalty. If, however, this belief is proven false, if you continue to support Galbadia's enemies despite all we can offer you, we will have no choice but to declare you enemies of the nation of Galbadia and destroy you."

Caraway paused for a moment, then continued. "Before you go confer about your course of action, let me say one more thing. When we deal with Timber, we will do so with care and foresight. They have a great many resources, and an infrastructure that benefits us too greatly for us to damage recklessly. Balamb Garden, however, holds no value to us. If we choose to destroy you, we will destroy you utterly, and leave nothing behind."  
Caraway unfolded his hands and nodded. "Good day to you, Miss Quistis. I await your reply."

Before Quistis could hang up, Caraway pushed a button on his own monitor, ending the call and leaving Quistis facing a blank screen. She exhaled slowly and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands and her elbows on Cid's desk.

The Headmaster moved around the desk and stood beside Quistis, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"You handled that well," he said. "Don't doubt yourself."

Quistis shook her head, her head still buried in her hands. "I lost my composure, I lied to a head of state, and I appeared weak and foolish in front of the largest military in the western world. Nothing I did was done well."

(I can't do this.)

Cid removed his hand and laced his fingers in front of his stomach. Quistis sighed, then leaned back in the chair and looked up at the Headmaster.

"If you think I would have done better in your place, you're wrong," Cid said. Quistis expected him to smile reassuringly, but his expression was calm and serious. "I have lost my composure during negotiations many times, and over far more trivial matters. I think the General would have had me screaming and yelling if I'd been there instead. You did well, believe me."

(I don't believe you, but there's no sense in arguing.)

"What do we do?" Quistis asked. She rose out of the chair and gestured for the Headmaster to take it. Cid shook his head and continued to stand.

"Well, Ciel is still waiting for us to finish our negotiations with her," the Headmaster said. Now the reassuring smile she had expected earlier appeared on his face. "And after what Caraway put you through, negotiations with her should be rather easy."

"She probably needs more time to come up with a good offer," Quistis said.

(And I need time to think.)

"Whenever you're ready," Cid said, "Tap the same green button as before. It will connect you with the call on hold."

Quistis nodded.

One the one side was the might of the Galbadian army, its military and its technology almost guaranteeing a crushing victory over the people of Timber. Siding with them would ensure SeeD a secure and easy victory, with a cash incentive that they desperately needed. And perhaps, with SeeD helping oversee the battle, the bloodshed could be kept to a minimum. Quistis could order the students to use non-lethal force, subduing the rebellion rather than crushing it. Much as she hated the idea of working with Galbadia, especially after Caraway's aggressive threats, choosing Galbadia might result in the shortest battle and the fewest deaths, both SeeD and civilian.

But then there was Timber. Timber, which SeeD had supported several times in the past. Timber, the innocent nation occupied by the late dictator Vizner Deling, and still under Galbadian control even after his passing. There was no doubt that Timber had the moral ground in this battle, but they had neither the strength nor the money to defend that morality. Their sole hope rested on a childish sorceress who had thrown a rock at the hornet's nest and expected SeeD to rush in and save her. Even adding SeeD's strength to theirs, Quistis doubted they could overcome the Galbadians.

(Neither option is right. Maybe we shouldn't get involved at all.)

She looked to the Headmaster.

"What would you do, in this situation?" she asked.

"That is not for me to decide," Cid said. "As Commander, your duty is to decide who we fight and what we fight for. I trust your judgment. If I didn't, I wouldn't have made you Lieutenant Commander. And to tell the truth, I am not much of a strategist. You are better equipped to make this decision than I am."

"But you trained us," Quistis said. "SeeD is your project to train soldiers. Surely you must have a great deal of knowledge about—"

Cid waved a hand, interrupting her. "I merely hired the people who trained you. And then I entrusted all of your education to those hired staff members. And now, those people who trained you have all left. You and your fellow SeeDs are the only people in Garden right now with any military training at all."

(He's dumping far too much responsibility on us. Too much, too quickly.)

(I thought he would ease me into the transition more gradually. Not just stop one day and expect me to make all the decisions.)

"I will assist you in whatever way I can," Cid said. "And I will inform you if I feel you are making a tactical error. But I leave this decision in your hands. You and the others are the future of SeeD, and I want to ensure that you are all ready to bear this burden before Edea and I leave Garden wholly in the hands of our students."

Quistis ground her teeth. She wanted to argue with him. She wanted to tell him that maybe he didn't have any formal military training, but he had well over a decade of experience leading Garden and making its decisions. After serving as Headmaster for so many years, he must have learned something that could help Quistis sort through her decision. For him to stand by and watch seemed not only unwise, but outright foolish and reckless.

(Is this how Squall felt, when we all pushed him to be our leader?)

(… No wonder he always seemed so angry.)

Quistis crossed her arms. She could spend the rest of the day and night, the next hundred years, mulling over her decision without finding an answer. Her thoughts returned to the sorceress.

(Maybe Ciel is ready with an offer.)

Hoping that the sorceress could clear her mind, Quistis sat back in Cid's leather chair and tapped the green key on Cid's keyboard. Cid moved to stand beside her, placing a hand on the chair's backrest. A few moments later, the monitor lit up, showing the room where Ciel had been. It was now empty, the chair where the sorceress had sat, unoccupied. Quistis could hear whispering off camera, but nothing was visible.

"Hello?" Quistis said. "Have you reached a decision?"

The whispering stopped, and there was a bump and some fumbling around, knocking the camera askew. Finally, Ciel emerged from the side, her face taking up most of the frame as she readjusted the camera. When it was level, she sat down and quickly bowed her head in apology.

"Sorry, sorry," she said. "Yeah, we've got a deal for you."

(I hope it's good.)

"Let's hear it," Quistis said.

Ciel sighed, as if she was reluctant to answer. Then she said, "Three percent of Timber's national income, for as long as Timber is free and independent. Paid every year, directly to SeeD. We can show you our yearly budget, so you know we aren't cheating you out of any money."

Quistis, once again, was surprised. She had expected a specific gil amount. A trivial gil amount, to be honest. And she expected to be disappointed. Instead, she was overwhelmed by the offer. It was unreal. Entire nations routinely contracted with SeeD, but never had any of them offered a permanent cut of their income. To do so was almost absurd.

(That… is quite an offer.)

Quistis shook her head. "I-I'm sorry, but who are you to offer that kind of arrangement?"

Ciel opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. Finally she said, "I've got connections with the family of the former President of Timber. At least, he was president before Deling overthrew him. We've talked about this before—I mean, 'we' being the resistance members. If we get our independence, we're going to make his son into our new President, and he just agreed to that three percent offer. Do we have a deal?"

(She's managed to occupy both ends of the absurdity spectrum in a single negotiation. First offering an amount SeeD would be foolish to settle for, now offering an amount SeeD would be foolish to believe.)

Quistis shook her head, trying—like Cid had done—to maintain her calm throughout the entire farce of a negotiation. After the debate with Caraway, it was easy to keep her cool.

"I can't accept an offer like this on your word alone," Quistis said. "You are speaking on behalf of an entire nation. Furthermore, you're only offering a hypothetical payment. If Timber wins and if the right person is made president then maybe you'll pay us back. Forgive me, but this seems unreal."

"I can get you official documents," Ciel said. "A contract with the Seal of Timber and the signature of the former President and the—hopefully—next President. It'll all be legit. We'll honor the deal, I swear."

Quistis didn't know how to proceed. At a loss, she looked up at the Headmaster. He smiled to her and nodded, then bent down to better get his face into frame.

"I believe I can help with this," Cid said. "You see, I've dealt with Timber in the past, before Garden and before Galbadia's occupation. I am familiar with the former President. You say that he's recently agreed to this plan, which must mean he's nearby. If there is any way I could speak to him, I could solve this issue immediately."

Ciel bit her lip and glanced off camera. Out of frame, there was muttering and whispering, none of which Quistis could discern. After a few moments, Ciel nodded to someone Quistis couldn't see.

"They're here," Ciel said. She gestured off screen, and two men stepped into frame, standing on either side of the sorceress. On her right was an older man, roughly Cid's age, with small glasses balanced on his hooked nose. Dark, but gentle eyes looked through his glasses. His hair was wispy thin and mostly gone. The man on Ciel's left was a younger version of the elder, with the same eyes and the same glasses. Even their posture and expressions were alike.

Cid smiled at the older man. "It's been a long time, Gian."

"And to you, Headmaster," the older man said.

(How do these two know each other?)

(I'll have to remember to ask later…)

"And you will honor this arrangement?" Cid asked.

Gian placed his right hand over his heart and nodded solemnly. "On my life, and on my honor," he said.

Cid brightened, clapping his hands once, as if sealing the deal between his fingers. "Then it is settled," he said. "I need no further proof of your sincerity."

Ciel smiled for the first time since the negotiations began. Excitedly, she looked from Gian to Cid. "So you're gonna help us? SeeD is coming to Timber?"

Cid smiled, but shook his head. "I cannot promise that just yet. I merely said that the payment you offered is acceptable. I haven't said whether or not we _will_ accept it."

Ciel's shoulders slumped, and her voice deepened.

"When will we know for sure?" Ciel asked.

"Soon," Cid said. "How can we contact you?"

"You can't," Ciel said. "This connection is scrambled. It only makes outgoing calls. Maybe… maybe we can arrange a time to speak?"

Cid looked down to Quistis. She took a deep breath and considered.

(I have all the evidence before me. Both sides have made their cases. There's really nothing left for me to do but think it over, and I've already spent much of the past week doing that…)

Quistis turned to Ciel. "Tonight. After sunset. Call us again, and we'll have a decision ready."

"Cool," Ciel said. "See you then."

At the same time, both the SeeD Commander and the Timber sorceress reached for their monitors, tapping buttons to disconnect the call. In Cid's office, the screen went blank, leaving Quistis alone with Cid.

(Maybe I should have given myself more time.)

"Our friend Ciel has some impressive connections," Cid said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I must admit, I had my doubts about her. But with her sorceress powers and the backing of the former Timber administration, we may yet be able to pull this off. Providing, of course, you accept her offer."

The conversation with Ciel had done little to move Quistis to either side of the debate. If anything, Ciel's stunning offer had only confused her more.

To stall for time, she looked to the Headmaster and asked, "What's your connection to the former president of Timber?"

Cid laughed once, without humor, his smile stuck to his face. But his eyes betrayed his emotions, and Quistis felt she had stumbled upon an emotional subject.

"It is… a long story," Cid said. "We are not friends, in the strictest sense. But we have helped each other before. Long ago, in another lifetime. Before Garden, before the Sorceress War, before Galbadia invaded Timber. If you're concerned about his integrity, don't be. He's an honorable man, and I owe him a great debt. I have every confidence that he will uphold his end of the bargain, if we help him liberate Timber."

(If.)

"And… how much would that be?" Quistis asked. "Three percent of Timber's national income?"

Cid thought for a moment. "A truly massive sum. Timber is a tiny nation, yes. But it has abundant and plentiful natural resources. That is why Galbadia covets it so much, and why they expend so much effort in occupying it. Even a mere three percent of their income… I'd have to do the math, but I wouldn't be surprised if that was enough to support SeeD forever. We would never need to take another mission for money ever again. All our expenses would be paid for life."

Quistis had both hoped and feared that was the case. Hoped, because it meant that she could side with Timber for both moral and monetary reasons. Feared, because she knew the cost of that bargain would be the blood of SeeDs. There was no way SeeD and Timber could escape open war with Galbadia without massive casualties.

If anything, her decision was growing harder by the second.

Strangely, she felt guilty about both options. Siding with Galbadia felt like betraying SeeD's ambitions, betraying everything they believed in. Whereas siding with Timber felt like betraying the students at Garden, failing to protect them by sending them into a battle where surely many of them would die.

The Headmaster waited patiently. Quistis sighed.

(Squall would know what to do.)

But Squall was another continent away, with a full day's head start on his journey. If he wasn't in Esthar already, he was very close to it. And the situation in Timber was about to burst wide open. She had at best a day or two, maybe three, to interfere in the conflict. Quistis needed to make up her mind, and she would need to do it quickly. Squall would never be reached in time.

(Rinoa would want to help the people of Timber.)

(And Squall would want to help because of Rinoa.)

(In fact… isn't Squall still under contract until Timber is liberated?)

That thought opened up a ray of light in her reasoning. A crack formed, through which a chain of thought could be threaded. From this idea, she came to another idea, then another. Suddenly a choice that seemed impossible became clear.

(I am the Lieutenant Commander of SeeD.)

(I am here to lead SeeD in the absence of the Commander.)

(Thus, I should act as the Commander would act, if he were here.)

(So I need only ask myself, what would Squall do?)

What Quistis would do, what SeeD should do, what the Headmaster wanted to do, these were all complicated and contradictory choices. But if she narrowed all her options down to the simple question of, "What would Squall do?" then the complex net of possibilities reduced itself to a singular answer. Suddenly, she knew the solution. In her head, in her heart, she knew what needed to be done.

"We side with Timber," Quistis said. She spoke firmly, and with finality. There was no question in her voice, or doubt in her mind.

The Headmaster nodded, pleased, but unsurprised. "I am glad you decided that. May I ask what ultimately led you to make this choice?"

Quistis leaned back into the chair and looked up into the Headmaster's eyes.

"It's what Squall would do."


	8. Chapter 8: Love and Peace

_**Chapter 8**_

_**Love and Peace**_

(Selphie)

Trabia had always been a cold place, year-round. Trabia Garden, tucked in the valley formed by a crescent-moon-shaped ridge of mountains at the northernmost rim of the world, had previously seen winters where the snow piled up twice the height of its tallest students, and summers so cool the long sleeves and pants of the Garden's uniform were sometimes insufficient, even at midday.

Selphie spent much of her life in Trabia Garden, and thought she was prepared for its coldness. But as she soon learned, there is a difference between living in Trabia under a warm roof, having classrooms with central heating and dorms with thick blankets on the beds, and living in Trabia with nothing but flimsy tents, shattered ruins of walls, and ragged, scavenged clothes for protection.

When Trabia had been whole, the cold had been a distant part of the landscape. Always there, but easily forgotten. But the Galbadian missiles had brought the walls down, and the cold was free to roam everywhere, touch everything. It was summer now, and the day warmed by degrees as the morning marched onward, but the night—like all the nights before it—felt like the dead of winter. In the darkness, the cold crept down from the mountains and covered the ruined Garden, only reluctantly leaving the valley as the sun crested the mountaintops.

Selphie woke up. In her tiny two-person tent, she had to duck her head—even while sitting—to keep from bumping against the cloth tent as she rose up and yawned. Blankets were hard to find, so Selphie's night attire consisted of a brown wool cap pulled down almost over her eyes, a scarf, three ragged shirts layered on top of each other, and a pair of denim overalls, all worn over her regular yellow dress. With her mismatched clothes, she looked like a derelict. The chill in her spine and rumble in her stomach made her feel like a derelict as well.

(It'll get better soon.)

She yawned again, loudly and dramatically. On a wooden plank beside her, her friend curled into a ball and moaned, her back facing Selphie.

"Come on, come on," Selphie said. She put her hand on her friend's shoulder and pushed. "I know you're up, Tomomi. Daylight's a-wastin' here."

"Let it waste," Tomomi said. "We'll get some more tomorrow."

"Fine, I'll give you a couple more minutes," Selphie said. "Just be up before the boys."

"Mmrph."

Selphie leaned forward and unzipped the tent. She crawled outside and zipped the flap closed behind her. She stood up, stretched, and looked around the ruins. What used to be Trabia Garden's basketball court was now the girls' dormitory. A couple dozen tents of varying shapes and sizes poked out among the chunks of asphalt. Some of these tents had been supplied by Irvine and Selphie—a gift from Trabia's new ambassadors—while others had been scavenged from the wreckage. The tents weren't much, but they provided a semblance of privacy and a little bit of warmth.

A few other girls were milling around the tents, pulling clothes, tools, and other things they would need for the day out of their tents. Selphie greeted them all as she stomped her boots around cracks in the shattered pavement. They all smiled back warmly enough, but none could hope to match her cheerfulness. Although everyone in Trabia was enthusiastic about rebuilding their home, sometimes enthusiasm and cheerfulness were two different things. Among Selphie's many jobs was making sure that those two concepts mixed more often.

(Gotta keep everyone happy!)

Down a dirt path and around the remnants of a wall was the soundstage that once formed the centerpiece of Trabia's quad. The stage was elevated by wooden posts, holding it about waist-high off the dirt. Underneath the stage was the new boys' dormitory. There hadn't been enough tents for everyone, so it was agreed that the girls would get all the tents and the boys would get the quad. It seemed fair enough. The stage formed a crude roof, and aside from the front section, it was completely enclosed. All the sleeping bodies heaped on the ground, tucked in sleeping bags, cloth, and blankets made it feel almost warm under the stage.

Selphie stood next to the broken stairs that led to the top of the stage and bent over, peering underneath the wooden slats into the crowded mass of testosterone. Sunlight shone through the cracks of the stage, allowing Selphie just enough light to see that the boys were still asleep.

"WAKE UP CALL!" Selphie said. "Girls win again!"

Dozens of heads shot up, startled, their faces almost indistinguishable in the dim light underneath the stage. When they realized where they were, many of them put their heads down and went back to sleep.

"I think it's just you that's awake, Selphie," a tired voice in the back mumbled. "All the other girls are asleep, I bet."

"Nu uh!" Selphie said. She put her hands on her hips, indignant. "Come look! We're all awake already. You guys lose again."

A few voices in the back had a heated whispering argument. Selphie could hear the words, but couldn't make out who was fighting with whom.

"You were supposed to wake us up, man!"

"I know, I know. I fell asleep. Sorry."

"You can never stay awake."

"We're never put you on wake up duty ever again."

"He'd probably like that."

Selphie slapped the top of the stage a few times, the sound echoing loudly under the stage, like beating a drum. The boys moaned in protest of the noise.

"Better luck next time," she said before moving on.

It was Selphie's idea to make a competition between the two dorms. Trabia was in desperate need of games, even if it was a simple, "Who can wake up first?" game. The rules were: the sun had to be out, and the whole dorm had to be awake. The losers had to make breakfast.

The girls had been on a long winning streak, so the boys didn't bother to call Selphie's bluff and check to make sure that the girls were actually awake, instead taking her word for it. Their laziness had helped contribute to extending the girls' winning streak for another day.

(Gotta make sure everyone's up.)

The jig was up if one of the boys crawled out from under the stage and staggered over to the basketball court to find half the girls' dorm still in their tents. So another of Selphie's many jobs—in addition to making games and keeping everyone cheerful—was to make sure the girls were actually awake before the boys.

To her surprise and delight, when she rounded the corner to the basketball court, she found that all the girls had gotten up on their own, and were outside their tents, chatting, adding or removing layers of clothes, stretching. Even Tomomi had dragged herself out of her tent and was kneeling, blinking in the sunlight, in front of the open mouth of the tent.

"Did we win?" Tomomi asked when Selphie approached.

"Of course!" Selphie said. "We kick butt!"

"Yay," Tomomi said sleepily.

Walking back and forth between the dorms had warmed Selphie up to the point where she was almost beginning to sweat. She unbuttoned her overalls and pulled them off, then crumpled them into a ball and tossed them into the back of the tent. Tomomi yawned loudly. Her yawn triggered several more yawns across the basketball court, including one from Selphie.

Selphie looked out beyond the ruins, at the distant circle of mountains that walled off the Garden. In the east, the sun had only halfway emerged above the mountains, casting long shadows across the basketball court.

A few minutes later, footsteps approached along the dirt path. Selphie looked over the tops of the tents and saw Irvine's familiar black cowboy hat approaching. Irvine stopped just as he walked into full sight and covered his eyes with one hand, smiling.

"You ladies decent?" he asked.

"You hopin' for a 'yes' or a 'no?'" Selphie yelled out, laughing.

Irvine shrugged. "I heard a rumor there was some pillow-fighting going on, and I wanted to see if ya'll needed some help. Help breaking it up, I mean."

"Bring us some pillows, and we'll gladly fight you," Tomomi said.

"Yeah!" Selphie said.

Irvine grinned, his mouth visible below his hand. "Chow's on when ya'll are ready."

He pivoted on his foot, his brown trench coat swirling dramatically as he headed back the way he'd come. Selphie watched him go, following his black cowboy hat until it was out of sight.

The promise of food shook off the last remnants of sleepiness from the girls, and as one huddled mass, they followed after the cowboy ambassador down the dirt road.

Beyond the quad were three blasted walls of what used to be the Garden's science room. Like everything else in Trabia, it served a new function following the missile blast; now it was the cafeteria.

What few useable desks that could be salvaged were grouped together in the middle of the uneven floor. An island that used to have sinks and gas pipes now supported a few rusty pots and pans sitting on makeshift burners, heating up some mystery dish. The flames were provided by a couple of propane tanks, obtained in a trade at the nearest village.

Irvine and the rest of the boys stood grouped behind the island as the girls walked up. The long nights and few supplies at Trabia had taken its toll on Irvine, like it had with Selphie. His normally perfect hair was tangled and a bit greasy under his cowboy hat. Underneath his trench coat were a few scavenged t-shirts for extra warmth. Dirt smudged his face and circles had formed under his eyes. But despite his bedraggled appearance, his cheerfulness never wavered.

(We gotta be good ambassadors. Both of us. Can't let everyone down.)

"Good morning, ladies," Irvine said. He swept his arm to his waist and bowed deeply. "Today, chef Irvine has prepared for you a succulent dish of canned beans, harvested fresh from the local cardboard box in the corner. I find that the dish goes best with our white wine, Chateau de Boiled Water. Enjoy."

The girls, laughing softly at Irvine's humor, formed a single file line, grabbing cracked dinner plates which Irvine loaded with beans, steaming in the cool air. A boy at the end of the island handed the girls glasses of water. After the last of the girls passed through the line, the boys were then allowed to finish off what was left. While the boys often complained about kitchen duty, Selphie was beginning to suspect that the boys weren't as upset as they claimed. After all, they got to eat everything the girls left behind, which was usually more than half the meal.

(It all works out in the end.)

Irvine used a ladle to scoop up Selphie a plate of beans. He handed it to her and smiled. Somehow, even though he'd just woken up, his hair was a mess, and his clothes were dirty, Irvine still looked like a fashion model. As if everything about him was deliberately planned by an artist with a unique vision. She was painfully aware of the fact that the cold and the dirt never touched his eyes, which were clear and warm.

Selphie shivered, and smiled back. She took the plate and a glass of water and moved on.

(It's just chilly this morning. That's all.)

She grabbed a seat next to Tomomi. Her seat, in this case, was an overturned paint bucket. The plastic ridges in the bottom of the bucket dug uncomfortably into her butt, making her constantly readjust for better positioning while she ate and talked.

All around, the survivors gathered together for their morning meal. Trabia had never been a very large school, but now it was barely a school at all. It was hardly even a class. Of all the people she used to know, all her friends and classmates, teachers and faculty, less than fifty people huddled around in the old science lab—all of them students.

The surviving faculty fled after the bombing. They had done what they could to help the survivors and bury the dead, but they were quick to declare that Trabia was hopeless, and they moved on elsewhere. They had homes and families in other towns that they wanted to return to, and couldn't justify staying at Garden, working jobs that no longer existed.

But like the other Gardens, Trabia's students were mostly orphans. There was no home to return to, no family waiting for them across the sea. For many of them, these ruins were everything they had in the world. Even Selphie couldn't totally empathize with their situation. After all, she could still go back to Balamb Garden whenever she wanted. Or maybe to Esthar. Meet up with Sir Laguna. There were places she could go, if she had nowhere else.

She joked and laughed with her old friends, but a part of her saw that the smiles on her friends' faces seemed painted on. Their laughter never reached their eyes, never got all the way down to shake their bellies. It was nothing but nervous, tittering laughter, and broken half-smiles. The expressions of people who wished to be happy, but weren't.

(We gotta fix it. We're gonna fix it.)

Selphie smiled and laughed, hoping her friends would do the same.

Fixing a ruined Garden with only scavenged tools and a skeleton crew of half-starved children and teenagers was a nearly impossible task. There was always, always more work to do and never enough people for the job. The students needed to have a working shelter by winter, or else they would freeze to death before the end of the year. But even Selphie, in her endless optimism, was beginning to wonder if that was even possible.

Selphie had imagined, before she'd left Balamb Garden, that things would have gone better and gone quicker. She and Irvine had brought themselves and carload of supplies and food. With a little bit of help and leadership—she'd hoped—Trabia would be back on its feet again in no time. While their help and their supplies were welcome, the food was soon eaten, the supplies divvied up, and Selphie and Irvine were—in the end—only two people.

The car the new ambassadors had brought was actually turning out to be the most useful tool around. Unlike the handful of trucks and other vehicles that had survived the blast, the car was new and in good enough condition to be trusted with making the long trip to the nearest village.

Irvine had the idea to use the car to shuttle students out to work in the nearest village in exchange for additional supplies. It was a great idea, and a huge help to the Garden, but like everything else, it just wasn't enough. The local villagers pitied the school and did their best to assist, but they didn't have much to spare, or much work that needed to be done. Still, the additional food and supplies the villagers were able to part with were essential. Irvine and Selphie stood at the outskirts of the Garden, just beyond the perimeter wall, with a half dozen students lined up.

"All right," Irvine said. "Who's all volunteering for village detail?"

A few hands raised.

"Load up," Irvine said, motioning to the car. The volunteers piled into the car and then drove off to the village for the day.

Selphie and Irvine watched the car trail off in the distance, then separated and went to work on their respective pet projects. Irvine had been excavating a section in the middle of the Garden, trying to reach the underground MD levels. Selphie, meanwhile, had made it her goal to get a communications line between Trabia and Balamb.

When Squall made his new ambassadors promise to establish communications as quickly as possible, Selphie had taken him very seriously. So her main focus was to connect the Gardens. Not only would this fulfill her obligation to Squall and legitimize her status as ambassador, but she also hoped that the link would help speed up the rebuilding process. Communicating with SeeD, they would be able to coordinate the rebuilding process, ask for supplies, and really get their feet under them.

But Trabia's remote location made this dream nearly impossible as well. Trabia's HD cable, its only link to the rest of the world, had been severed in the bomb blast. Despite numerous excavation attempts, no one had yet found what—if anything—remained of the wire. Until they could find that wire, there was almost no way to speak to the outside world.

Selphie had tried to get a radio from the nearby village, but they were just listening radios for playing music, with no ability to send out a signal. Before the blast, Trabia used to order supplies shipped to them from other cities, but they'd used the HD cables to send out the orders. Without the cables to call a boat, Trabia couldn't even mail a letter.

(The cables should be our first priority.)

Selphie clambered over ruins, heading to where the other people in the Cable Crew—as Selphie had named it—were gathered. With the growing heat of the day, Selphie had been gradually shedding layers, until she was finally down to just her familiar yellow skirt and boots. Days of wearing her woolen cap made her hair frizzy beyond repair, so she kept it on her head to keep from looking like a crazy person. The tips of her hair poked out from the bottom of the cap and curled up towards the sky.

She approached a guy in a green shirt and work pants—nicknamed "Port"—as read over an improvised map. He and his friend Lank, a boy in a pale blue cadet's uniform, stood next to a couple other students, including Tomomi. They were all holding shovels, pickaxes, and buckets. Tomomi handed Selphie a shovel and Selphie slung it over her shoulder, ready for work.

"Okay," Port said. His fingers traced along the map as he spoke. "We tried by the main courtyard, and all along the graveyard. So next we should try behind the basketball court."

"West?" Lank said. "Why would they run the cable that way?"

Due west headed straight for the mountains, an odd place for an underground cable. If the cable indeed ran out that direction, it would either have to plow straight through the mountains or curl back down south.

"Hell if I know," Port said. He rolled up the map. "But south and east haven't panned out, so I guess we're trying west now."

Selphie raised her hand, as if asking a teacher a question. "What if we aren't diggin' deep enough?" she asked.

"If they buried the cable more'n six feet down," Port said, "We'll probably never find it."

Selphie gulped. The group headed out to the basketball court.

They crossed the basketball court, stepping their way through the tents until they reached the far side, where there was nothing but bare earth and rocks below them. A few clumps of stubborn crabgrass fought against the relentless cold weather, managing to live despite the elements.

"Who the heck decided to build a Garden way out here?" Selphie said. No one answered her. She kicked a loose rock into a pile of rocks and kept walking, her shovel balanced across her shoulders like a yoke.

A little beyond the basketball court, Port stopped and looked around. "Here's good enough, I guess."

Lank found a spot relatively clear of rubble, and the Cable Crew set their shovels into the earth and began to dig.

They'd been digging deep trenches in the soil for a couple hours and lunchtime was approaching when Selphie poked her head out of the hole she and Tomomi were digging and saw a familiar black cowboy hat heading her way. She froze in shock for a moment, then quickly adjusted her skirt and wiped off some dirt and sweat, then casually got back to work, digging away in her little hole. Tomomi looked at her and giggled.

"What?" Selphie asked. "Something on my face?"  
Tomomi smiled, but didn't answer.

Irvine approached the edge of the hole, leaning on his knee and looking down at Selphie. She kept digging, pretending not to be aware of him.

"Heya, Selphie!" Irvine said.

She stopped shoveling and looked up at him, grinning.

"Sup?" she asked.

(Be cool.)

"We're through! Wanna come see?" Irvine said. He gave her a thumbs-up.

"Already?" Selphie asked. Irvine smiled and nodded. Selphie dropped her shovel and jumped in the air. "WOO HOO! Let's go check it out!"

Irvine reached a hand down and helped pull Selphie out of her hole. She smiled apologetically at Tomomi. "I'll be back soon!" she said.

"I'll be here," Tomomi said, resuming her work. "Here or some other hole just like it."

Selphie walked with Irvine as he led the way towards the middle of the Garden, where the damage from the missiles was most severe. While the outer rim of the Garden was still largely recognizable, the middle section was a hopeless pile of rubble and twisted steel. After the missiles hit, the peaked dome of the Garden had collapsed downward onto its middle, burying the rubble in a second layer of yet more rubble. The two climbed atop this rubble heap, chunks and debris sliding under their feet and hands, watching for glass shards, and continued on to the center.

To Selphie, this was the most depressing sight in the entire Garden. From the top of the debris, Selphie could look down into the crater that now formed the central hub of Trabia Garden. Where there had once been a domed common area, with an artificial waterfall and flowers and small trees, benches for the students to sit, and a colorful school directory, there was now only rocks and bare earth sliding deeper and deeper into a hole.

The outer section of the Garden was ruined, but still maintained an identity. Selphie could differentiate the basketball court from the quad from the classrooms. But here, there was nothing. Just a big, empty hole in the ground, shredded remains of what used to be her home.

Selphie sighed.

(This shouldn't've happened.)

(I should've…)

"Come on," Irvine said. "Almost there."

He smiled and touched Selphie on the shoulder, guiding her down into the crater. He stepped lightly, testing the rubble with his toe to make sure it was stable before putting his whole weight down on it. Selphie followed—quite literally—in his footsteps, double-checking with her own feet before trusting her weight on the steps. The way Irvine moved was just so smooth and natural, while Selphie felt awkward and ungainly, like her arms and legs were a few sizes too long for her body.

She tried not to watch him from the corner of her eyes. She was somewhat successful.

Soon they came to a spot where a half dozen other students had gathered. Some wore Garden uniforms, others wore salvaged civilian clothes. They were all crouched down, holding flashlights and pointing them down to a hole they had excavated in the rubble. Irvine and Selphie approached them.

"Looks safe enough, I guess," one of the students said to Irvine. "But I still don't know if it's a good idea to go down there. Might be unstable."

(Of course we're gonna go!)

"We gotta check it out!" Selphie said. She danced in place, excited at the prospect of exploration and discovery. "Don't worry, Irvy and I will go. We'll ambassadorate the underground as well as the overground!"

"Er… not sure 'ambassadorate's' a word, Selphie," Irvine said. He tugged at the brim of his hat, an expression Selphie had learned signaled slight embarrassment. It was as if Irvine was trying to hide his face with his hat. The others in the group shared his smile. It wasn't much, but Selphie could see the honesty in their humor. They weren't forced smiles, put on to make Selphie feel better.

(Good enough for now.)

"We got some rope and flashlights," the student said. He revealed a long nylon rope and a pair of heavy-duty flashlights. "Be careful, you two."

"Gotcha," Irvine said. He took one flashlight and passed the other to Selphie. They clicked them on and off to make sure they worked. Irvine took the coil of rope from the student and slung it over his shoulder.

Without waiting for anyone to give her permission, Selphie leapt from the ruins down the hole Irvine and the others had dug, landing onto a heavy sheet of metal that used to be the ceiling of the Garden's main elevator. The metal banged and twisted as she landed, nearly giving way. Selphie didn't really notice. She crouched down and jumped through the hole in the roof, landing inside the darkened elevator.

She took out her flashlight, clicked it on, and shone the beam around inside the cramped elevator. The walls had been warped by the blast and were pockmarked, stained with ash and soot, but otherwise it looked the way she remembered it. The floor slanted to the side a little bit, but Selphie could still stand on it easily enough.

"Heads up," Irvine said. He dangled his feet over the edge of the hole. Selphie moved aside, allowing Irvine to drop down into the elevator next to her. Selphie continued to shine her light around, but still didn't see anything unusual in the elevator.

Finally, she got frustrated and turned to Irvine, shining the light at his face. He winced and blocked the beam with his hand. Selphie angled the beam down at his chest and asked, "You sure Squall said it was in the elevator?"

"Positive," Irvine said. "He said there was a trapdoor in the bottom of the elevator that led to the MD levels of Balamb Garden."

Selphie looked around the bottom, shining her light around wildly. "I don't see a trapdoor…"

"Might be under the carpet," Irvine said.

The two got on their hands and knees and began tugging at the corners of the carpet, trying to get it to lift up. The carpet, like the rest of the elevator, had survived the blast quite well and stubbornly resisted being pulled up. Finally, Selphie managed to slide a finger under the edge. After she got one finger in, she was able to wiggle in a second and a third, until her whole hand was under the carpet. She stood up, still gripping the carpet, and pulled, yanking it from the floor with a ripping sound.

With the corner pulled up, Selphie peered over the carpet and shone her light onto the metal floor beneath. It was blank.

"No trapdoor here," Selphie said. "Bummer."

Irvine said, "Might be under a different corner. Keep pulling."

The two shuffled around in the small elevator to give Selphie room to pull up more of the carpet. The carpet separated from the metal, sending up little plumes of dust that swirled in the beams of the flashlights. When fully half the carpet was curled up in Selphie's hand, she pointed the beam down again and this time, she saw the outline of a rectangular person-sized hatch in the other corner.

"Hey!" Selphie said. "Squall's not crazy after all."

"I wouldn't go that far…" Irvine said with a smirk.

"Tee-hee," Selphie said.

According to Squall, he and the others—following Headmaster Cid's instructions—had found a tunnel under a hatch beneath the elevator that lead down into the Garden's subbasement levels. They then worked their way through the inner guts of the Garden, finding a control panel that freed Garden from its roots and made it mobile.

Of course, there was no guarantee that Trabia would be mobile or even have a subbasement, but if both Balamb and Galbadia Gardens were mobile, it was likely that Trabia was as well. So, finding and excavating the elevator shaft had become Irvine's pet project. Irvine knew that making Trabia mobile now would probably cause more damage and undo the repairs the students had already done, but if the underground levels were clear and stable, they could be used as a shelter to protect the students through the coming winter.

Selphie held up the carpet, holding the beam of light steady on the hatch. Irvine stepped around the carpet and reached down into handhold in the hatch. He lifted it up, revealing a darkened passageway and a warped ladder going down into oblivion. He shone his light down the hole, but the beam ended well before it reached bottom.

Irvine whistled.

"That is a deep hole…" Selphie said.

"No kiddin'," Irvine said.

"You guys find somethin'?" a student called from above.

"Yeah!" Irvine shouted back up. "We're gonna check it out."

"Be careful," the student replied.

"We're professionals!" Selphie said. "We got this under control."

The two examined the ladder than led down into the hole. The rungs had been warped by the impact of the missiles and had started to rust. Irvine kicked the nearest rung, sending up a cloud of dirt. The metal thrummed with the impact, but didn't break loose.

"I don't trust this ladder," he said. He straightened up and uncoiled the rope around his shoulder. He tied one end to the handrail inside the elevator and held on to the rope.

"I'm going down first," Irvine said. "I'll let you know if it's safe to come down after."

(Pshaw!)

"What happened to 'ladies first?'" Selphie asked. Still holding up the carpet, she stuck out a hand, blocking Irvine from reaching the hole.

"I dunno if this is a 'ladies first' type situation, you know?" Irvine said. He rubbed at his neck. "That's for like, going to dinner parties or the movies. But when there's danger and stuff, it's usually guys first."

"So guys get to have fun and explore and girls have to wait in the elevator?" Selphie asked.

Irvine shrugged. "Yeah, basically," he said.

"Nu uh. Gimme the rope."

Without further complaint, he handed the rope to Selphie. She tied a mountain-climber's harness around her waist and between her legs—something unique to the education of Trabia Garden's students—and faced the hatch. Irvine scooped up the slack from the rope and held it, feeding it out slowly. He used his body to keep the carpet from falling back over the hole.

"Ready when you are," Irvine said.

Holding her flashlight downwards in one hand, Selphie sat on the edge of the open hatch and dangled her legs down. She stuck her foot out, searching around with her toe until it found one of the rungs of the ladder. She put her other foot on the rung and gradually pressed her weight down on it. The metal rungs creaked and groaned under her weight, but didn't break.

(Seems safe enough.)

Selphie crawled down into the hole and began descending the ladder. Above her, in the elevator, Irvine leaned back and put both feet firmly against the wall, bracing himself to catch her in case she fell. He held the rope loosely in both hands, allowing it to slip through his fingers so she could climb down. Knowing Irvine had the rope safely in hand, Selphie quickly descended the ladder, holding her flashlight in her mouth as she went down, rung by rung.

The ladder croaked worryingly with every step. She went down a dozen rungs, then two dozen, then three and four. At intervals, she stopped descending and pointed her beam down the elevator shaft. Only darkness and the metallic walls of the shaft were visible. Above her was a tiny, pale dot of light where she had come in, growing smaller and smaller as she descended.

The spirit of adventure had gripped Selphie. She had only been mildly curious before, when Irvine had first started digging around for the elevator shaft, but now she was almost dying to see what was at the bottom of the hole. Squall had talked about control panels and ancient Centra machines and gears shaped like spheres and a whole bunch of neat stuff inside of Balamb's guts.

Her imagination took hold as she envisioned what could be hiding in the depths of Trabia. Maybe there were supplies down there. Scraps they could salvage and use to rebuild the Garden, canned foods, fuel, something. Or if nothing else, at least a big, warm room where the coldness of the night couldn't reach the students. The ladder could be reinforced so that it would be safer for the students to go up and down every day. With a little bit of work, the students could have something resembling a real shelter.

Selphie had been able to do so little to help since arriving to Trabia. Wouldn't it be great if she could unearth a buried treasure from right below the Garden? Then the trip from Balamb would have been meaningful, her contribution valuable. She hadn't been able to stop the missiles; the least she could do was help mitigate the damage done by them.

(I gotta see what's down there.)

She paused and pointed her mouth—still holding the flashlight—down the shaft. It finally hit something resembling a floor.

(YES!)

"YYYYMMMSSSMMM!" Selphie yelled up the elevator shaft. Distantly came Irvine's reply.

"What?" he said.

Selphie took the flashlight out of her mouth. "I found something!"

"What is it?" Irvine asked.

"Dunno, lemme look."

She put the flashlight back in her mouth and went down the last dozen or so rungs. She dropped down onto the floor, discovering that it was not a regular floor, but tightly packed dirt. She grabbed her flashlight and pointed it around, her heart sinking when she realized the situation.

It was not the end of the shaft. Or, at least, not the intended end. One side of the elevator shaft had cracked open, dumping in a wave of soil, which poured through the hole and plugged up the shaft. She could see the top of that hole where it had all come in. The dirt had filled up the elevator shaft, burying whatever was hidden in Trabia's heart.

(It's not fair…)

Defeated, Selphie plopped down on the dirt and shone her beam around, looking for anything that might allow her to continue her journey. Maybe another path, another ladder, something. But she was alone with the dirt, and that stupid crack in the elevator shaft that had let it all in.

"Hey! What's down there?" Irvine called.

Selphie sighed. "Nothing…" she called up. "… There's nothing down here."

Oh well.

So what if there wasn't anything down the elevator shaft? It's not like they were depending on finding something down there. They had other plans in motion. Selphie could still work on finding the HD cable. And once they got the cable connected, they could communicate with SeeD and order supplies from other towns. The elevator shaft was just a minor setback.

(It'll be okay!)

Irvine pulled her up and out of the shaft. The other students then helped pull both of them out of the elevator. They handed off their flashlights and rope to the students and Selphie brushed off the layer of dirt that collected on her while she was in the shaft.

"You wanna take a quick walk?" Irvine asked.

"Sure!" Selphie said.

He turned and retraced his steps through the rubble, perfectly remembering the safe places to set his weight down. Once again, Selphie picked the same course as him, carefully setting her big, clunky boots down on the sliding ruins.

When they stepped off the ruins and headed into the Garden's front courtyard, Selphie became intensely aware of the fact that she and Irvine were alone. For the past few days, their respective reconstruction projects had kept them apart. Or, on the occasions when they were together, they were surrounded by lots of other people. This was their first private moment in some time.

Selphie found herself becoming very nervous.

"You know, we don't get much chance to talk these days," Irvine said. He strode slowly through the courtyard, heading for the front gate. "I mean, just you and me."

"I know!" Selphie said, maybe a little too loudly, too enthusiastically. She couldn't seem to control herself. "I don't hardly get a chance to talk to any of my friends anymore. Everyone's too busy."

Irvine laughed once, as if Selphie had told a joke. She frowned at him. She didn't see what was funny about not talking to her friends.

"Heh… I guess that's true," Irvine said. He looked up at the road ahead of them, at long stretch of cracked pavement ahead of them. There was no one else around.

She expected Irvine to follow up with something, a sarcastic comment or a flirty double entendre, but he remained silent. She tried to gauge his emotions, but his face revealed nothing and his eyes were focused ahead.

(Was it something I said?)

"So whatdja wanna talk about?" Selphie asked. She bounced on her toes as she walked.

Irvine waved off her question. "Nothin'. Just… sayin' how we don't get to talk much, is all."

(Oh, I get it.)

"You pullin' that 'lonesome sniper' thing again?" Selphie asked. She pushed him gently on the shoulder, feeling his weight under her hand. "Cause it don't work on me, you know."

"No…" Irvine said. "I'm not pullin' anything right now."

He lapsed into silence again. Selphie felt the nervous tittering in her stomach begin turning into concern. Ordinarily, Irvine mirrored her emotions, her jokes. Now he was just being solemn and quiet, completely unlike him.

(Is there something wrong?)

"What are you gonna do when Trabia's fixed?" Irvine asked. He kept his eyes forward, not looking at her.

Selphie shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't thought about that yet."

She'd already come to accept the fact that it would be a very long time before Trabia could be considered "fixed," and even then it would never be the way she remembered it. Those thoughts took precedence in her mind, and the far off future wasn't worth worrying about yet. She had enough concerns already.

"We'd still be ambassadors," Irvine said. "I read the contract, and it doesn't end when we fix Trabia. Technically, we could be ambassadors here together for as long as we want."

She tried to imagine the future: Trabia, healthy and whole, full of students again. Connected to Balamb Garden, with her and Irvine talking to Squall over the cables, organizing the two Gardens. Exchanging students, supplies. Would she wear a uniform again, and would it be Trabia's uniform, or Balamb's? Would they eventually get together with Galbadia Garden as well? Unite the three Gardens?

(That's WAY too far in the future.)

"I dunno…" Selphie said.

"You dunno what?" Irvine asked.

She sighed. Her thoughts and feelings resisted being tied down with words. "I dunno. I'm just… doing one thing at a time, you know? That stuff can wait for later."

"Would you wanna go back to Balamb, when Trabia's fixed?" Irvine asked.

(Why's he asking all these questions?)

The two reached the perimeter wall. The wall—or most of it—survived the missiles, but all the mechanisms controlling it were damaged, freezing the massive steel doors permanently closed. To allow students to get in and out, they had tossed a green wire mesh over the wall, forming an improvised ladder on both sides.

Selphie stopped there, but Irvine went on, grabbing the green wire mesh and climbing up the wall.

(Where's he going?)

She didn't know where he was heading, but she was eager to find out. She jogged up to the wall and grabbed onto the wire mesh, feeling it dig into her fingers as she followed after Irvine.

She thought that he would climb the wall and jump over to the other side, but instead Irvine reached the top and froze, staring into the distance.

"What are you looking at?" Selphie asked.

She planted a boot on top of the wall and stood up, then she saw it, and she too froze in place.

Coming from the south was the red mass of Galbadia Garden. It hovered above the ground, still several minutes away—but moving fast. Judging by the speed it was traveling, the two wouldn't have much time to respond before it was upon them.

"Oh…" Selphie said. "That's what you're looking at."

She couldn't come up with a quick fix for Trabia, or to read Irvine's mind. She couldn't make everyone happy, but she had been trained to fight, and she could do that all too well. Her experience as a SeeD, in battles both in the present and in the distant future, informed her on what to do next.

Immediately, she considered Trabia's strengths and weaknesses. Where could Galbadia's troops break through the perimeter walls? Could the students fall back to the central crater if Galbadia broke through? Where would the youngest children go to hide? How could they use the terrain to their advantage?

(Wish I'd drawn up battle plans before this.)

(Stupid, stupid, stupid.)

Irvine turned to Selphie, his solemnity replaced with urgency. "Sound the alarm. We gotta go grab our weapons and gear. You got your battle junctions up?"

"Always!" Selphie said.

"Let's go!" Irvine said.

Recklessly, they turned and leapt off the wall, back into Trabia Garden. The one-story drop wasn't too high, but the cracked, uneven ground was ripe territory for broken bones and snapped ankles. But their training and experience, coupled with their enhanced physical abilities and heightened awareness, saw them safely to the ground. Selphie landed, rolled, and broke into a run. Irvine dropped into a crouch, then sprinted after her.

"BAAAATLLLLLLE STAAAAAAATIONNNNNNNSSS!" Selphie screamed at the top of her lungs. Her high, piercing voice bounced around the mountains, reverberating again and again, better than any siren Trabia could salvage or purchase.

All the students in the Garden heard the cry, but were slow to respond to the danger. They poked their heads of out holes and around rubble, watching Irvine and Selphie sprint back through the courtyard. Weeks of relative peace and no training or exercise had dulled everyone's reflexes. They understood the order, but were slow to react—partially in disbelief of Selphie's warning.

Now, closer to the heart of the Garden, Selphie called out again.

"GALBADIA GARDEN IS COMING! BATTLE STATIONS! NOT A DRILL!"

This second warning spurred everyone into action. The students dashed to the girls' and boys' dorms, returning with swords, rifles, staves, and armor. Irvine broke away from Selphie and ducked under the quad's stage, vanishing from sight to grab his shotgun while Selphie sprinted up the hill to the basketball court.

All around her, students were either rushing, empty-handed, to one of the dorms, or rushing away from the dorms hauling weapons and gear. Some were guiding the youngest students, little more than toddlers in some cases, away from the front lines and into the relative safety of the central crater. Selphie looked at the confused and terrified faces of the children and wanted nothing more than to stop and comfort them, tell them it was going to be all right.

But she knew the best way to protect them would be to fight, so she kept running.

Selphie bobbed and weaved through the students, arriving at her tent. She yanked open the zipper and dove inside. Tucked in the very back was Selphie's oversized nunchaku and Tomomi's weapons, a pair of three-pronged sai. She grabbed her weapon as well as Tomomi's, then crawled out of the tent and rushed back to the perimeter wall.

Heading back down, she spotted Tomomi running towards the girl's dorm. Selphie cut her off and carefully passed Tomomi's weapons to her. Tomomi took one in each hand and gripped them tightly.

"C'mon!" Selphie said. Tomomi nodded, and together the two rushed back to the front gate, hoping that they would arrive before Galbadia.

As they ran through the courtyard and down the main walkway, Selphie was once again struck by how few people there were in Trabia. Almost everyone had arrived at the wall, but it barely amounted to anything resembling a fighting force. The entire might of all Trabia could be overwhelmed by a single squad of Galbadians.

(Not gonna give up.)

Irvine was already atop the wall, flanked by other students, all brandishing their weapons. Irvine kneeled, bracing his shotgun against his shoulder and lining up Galbadia Garden in his sights. Selphie crashed into the wall and grabbed at the green netting, tearing herself up the wall at a frantic pace.

(This time, I'll save Trabia from the Galbadians.)

She got to the top and saw, to her relief, that Galbadia was still a ways off. Tomomi and the last few students climbed up onto the wall, forming a single file line along its top. Rifles were loaded, arrows nocked, and swords drawn as the students braced for battle.

With a flush of panic, Selphie remembered that Trabia Garden—unlike Balamb—didn't junction Guardian Forces. That meant no magic, no crushing elemental summons to lay waste to dozens of enemies at once. The only long-range attacks came from the dozen or so students who had picked some form of projectile as their weapon specialty. If the odds of Trabia's survival were slim with GF's equipped, they were almost nonexistent without.

(Not gonna give up!)

Selphie brought her nunchaku to eye level, peering between the hole created by the loop of the weapon's chain and the wooden rods. She brought the growing red shape of Galbadia into that circle, as if aiming a gun, then she focused her biggest spell, preparing to send it off as a welcoming gift to the Galbadians.

"Don't attack just yet," Irvine said, speaking to both the gunners on the wall and to Selphie. "Let's see what they want."

Stunned, Selphie's concentration wavered, and the spell she'd been building slipped away from her.

"What?!" she yelled, turning to face Irvine. "Are you crazy?!"

"I don't think they came all this way to start a fight," Irvine said, not looking at her. "And let's be real here; the only way we're gettin' out of this alive is if Galbadia decides to let us go. So let's not start a fight until we're sure that the fight is coming, okay?"

"The only way we're gettin' out is if we WIN!" Selphie said. "And the only way to WIN is to get the first strike!"

Irvine, anger in his voice, lowered his shotgun and stared up at Selphie. "Look, I know what ya'll are feeling, but trust me, G-Garden is filled to the rafters with trained snipers. If they wanted us dead, they could park right where they are and pick us off this wall one by one. But they haven't, so we gotta see what they want."

"They wanna KILL US, that's what they want!" Selphie said, her voice rising to a scream.

"Why?" Irvine said, matching her intensity. "You never think about things! Why'd they come all the way out here? What do we have that they could possibly want?"

"I don't know!" Selphie said. "But whatever they want, they ain't getting' it!"

Galbadia Garden had completely slipped her mind at that point. The only thought in her head was to out-argue Irvine and prove her point. In her anger and frustration, G-Garden could have driven right past her and she wouldn't have noticed.

(He's gone nuts!)

"They've stopped," Tomomi said softly. Selphie broke out of her trance. She and Irvine both looked away from each other and turned to the dominating red figure that stood in the distance. As Tomomi had said, the Garden had stopped moving forward, parking itself just out of range of Trabia's weapons.

Irvine took a breath. "If they open fire," he said to everyone on the wall, "Then we all need to get off this wall and take cover. But until then, stand your ground."

Selphie swallowed. The waiting was unbearable. Galbadia Garden was just close enough for her to hear the alien hum of its ancient machinery, as the blue spinning disk that kept it hovering above the earth slowly rotated around and around. In the stillness, Selphie had time to consider what a horrible, awful death it would be, to take a bullet from a sniper. One minute, alive, standing on the ruined walls of her home. The next, dead, another body to add to the graveyard. Would she feel the impact of the bullet? Or would the lights just suddenly go out?

She felt helpless and exposed, aware of every inch of her body that was open to potential gunfire, but she did not back off the wall. She did not abandon her friends. If the snipers chose to hit her first, at least it would give the others a chance to scramble off the wall. Her death would be the signal that started the battle. The next battle between the Gardens.

(Come at me, Galbadia!)

But instead of gunfire, G-Garden opened up a hatch in the red body of the school. From the hatch came a long silver plank, extending all the way to the ground. And down that plank drove a single Galbadian military vehicle, gray and squat. That particular model, with its short wheel base and bloated body reminded Selphie of a well-fed woodtick. From the driver's side window, a blue flag with a foreign symbol flapped in the wind.

Irvine stood up and relaxed, pointing his shotgun downward. "It's the Galbadian parlay flag. It means they wanna talk. Put down your weapons."

(They just wanna lull us into a false sense of security!)

Although Irvine had no real command authority over the others, they all did what they were told. Nobody, not even Selphie, wanted a fight unless it was unavoidable. Despite her misgivings, Selphie lowered her nunchaku, but still mentally went over possible defensive and offensive spells she could cast to repel certain attacks, depending on what the Galbadians chose to do.

The military car pulled up just beneath the wall and stopped. Selphie could hear the clicks as those with rifles and pistols turned off their safeties and cocked their weapons. The driver's side door opened slowly, and a Galbadian officer in a red uniform stepped out, holding his hands above his head. The passenger door opened next, and a regular G-Soldier in blue stepped out, also holding up his hands in surrender.

"Hold your fire!" the officer called. "Hold your fire! We come in peace!"

In a stunning display of diplomacy and tact, Selphie hollered out, "WHADDYA WANT?"

The officer ignored her and scanned along the wall. Selphie, still remembering all her military training, began to worry that maybe he was counting their numbers, and that this whole "parlay" thing was a ruse to scout out Trabia before attacking. She shifted uncomfortably.

(If that's the case, he ain't gonna live long enough to tell anybody.)

She tightened her grip on her nunchaku and repeated her demand. "WHADDYA WANT?"

"First…" the officer said, raising his voice so that everyone on the wall could hear him. "We wish to apologize for the damage done to your Garden, and the tragic loss of life incurred. It was our missiles that created this devastation, but it was not our will that led to this tragedy. We offer our aid to assist you—"

"WE DON'T WANT IT!" Selphie yelled. "THANKS, BUT NO THANKS! GOODBYE!"

"Selphie…" Irvine muttered. She ignored him.

She felt angry at the officer's so-called apology, and at his offer of assistance. It was hard enough for her to even talk with the officer; the idea of letting him and others like him into the Garden to help rebuild sickened her.

The officer bit his tongue, then continued. "We offer our aid to assist in the reconstruction of your Garden. In exchange, we ask for information about the whereabouts of any sorceresses or potential sorceresses in the area. If you have any information, the nation of Galbadia will reward you for your assistance."

Irvine and Selphie exchanged a confused glance. Others on the wall muttered. Selphie's brain raced, but she couldn't figure out why Galbadia Garden would come out all the way to Trabia to hunt sorceresses.

It had been days since Irvine and Selphie left Balamb, but how much could the world change in a week or so? The world seemed pretty calm when they had left. What had happened since then? Suddenly Selphie felt acutely aware of the Garden's remote location, and how little news they received from the rest of the world.

(The whole world could be a smoking crater, and we'd never hear about it.)

"We don't have any sorceresses here," Irvine said. He made a point of stepping forward and showing the full length of his shotgun to the officer—threatening without threatening.

The officer's eyes were obscured by the silver visor on his helmet, but his head turned towards Irvine. Then he turned to the G-soldier on the other side of the car. The two exchanged a rapid series of whispers, just below Selphie's hearing, before the officer looked up to Irvine.

"Say, you in the hat," the officer said. "Your name… Kinneas? Irvine Kinneas?"

Irvine adjusted his footing and paused a moment. At first, Selphie thought he would say no. Why tell the truth to the Galbadians? But a moment later he replied, "Yeah. What of it?"

"The Headmaster would like a word with you," the officer replied.

"Well, then he's gotta come out here," Irvine said. "Cause I ain't going out there."

"Very well…" the officer said with a nod. He reached slowly into the car. When he saw everyone on the wall tense up, he pulled his hand back. "Just grabbing a radio."

He reached back into the car and pulled out a silver brick with a speaker and a few buttons. He depressed the call button and spoke loudly and clearly into the receiver.

"Send out the Headmaster," he said. "We found Kinneas."

"Roger," a voice on the other end of the line responded.

The tension in the air tripled. Irvine gripped his shotgun so tightly that Selphie could hear the fabric of his gloves creaking. The others along the wall glanced at him, worried and confused expressions on their faces. Everyone knew of his history, and that he was originally from Galbadia Garden, but not much else. He was still a stranger in Trabia, linked to the area only through Selphie.

(Are the others suspicious of him?)

"What does he want?" Irvine asked.

"He's going to make you a deal," the officer said. "The best deal you could ask for."

A moment later, a second Galbadian car—identical to the first, with another parlay flag flying from its window—descended from the Garden's ramp. It sped across the distance between the two Gardens, spraying a cloud of dust behind it. The students along the wall raised their weapons again, ready for anything. Selphie brought up her nunchaku and began sighting the car through the hole in her chain. She didn't call up a spell just yet, but she was braced for it.

The car pulled alongside the first and stopped. From out of the passenger side door, a slightly balding man in an elaborate ankle-length blue coat with brass buttons stepped out of the car and closed the door. His gloved hands were raised, his stern face scanning along the wall, from student to student. He stopped once his eyes settled on Irvine.

(Wait… that's… that's what's-his-name…)

"Irvine Kinneas," Headmaster Martine said. His voice was cold, militaristic. "Why are you here in Trabia Garden? You were supposed to report back to G-Garden after you returned General Caraway's daughter. You have failed in that mission, and are currently registered as AWOL."

"Then expel me," Irvine said, matching the Headmaster's coldness.

Martine lowered his hands to his sides. "You know that mere expulsion is not the punishment for desertion from the military."

Irvine swallowed audibly, but didn't let any emotion bleed through his face. Selphie looked to Irvine, then to the Headmaster. She didn't know what Galbadia's policy was towards AWOL students, but judging by Martine's implied threat, Selphie had a good guess.

(I knew it! They wanna fight!)

Selphie stepped along the wall and stood between Irvine and the Headmaster, her boots dangerously close to the edge. She raised up her nunchaku threateningly.

"You want him?" Selphie asked. "Gotta go through me!"

Emphasizing her point, the other students along the wall raised their weapons. The slim chance for peace was slipping away by the second. Selphie and the others braced themselves for a battle that now seemed unavoidable.

Martine looked to Selphie. He narrowed his eyes in thought.

"I recognize you from somewhere," he said. "That yellow dress is very… distinctive."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY DRESS?" Selphie shouted. She stomped her feet so hard that she slipped and nearly pitched headfirst off the wall. Irvine caught her shoulder and pulled her back to safety. His hands were strong and firm. He guided her off to the side and stepped forward, facing the Headmaster.

"She and I were part of the joint mission between Balamb and Galbadia," Irvine said. "The one you ordered a month ago."

Martine's face relaxed, and he nodded. "Ah, yes. That's it. Now I remember. Heh, seems like ages ago, doesn't it?"

The Headmaster's body language softened and his tone became almost conversational. Selphie didn't trust it. Nobody would go all the way up to Trabia, ask about sorceresses, threaten someone about desertion, and then strike up a friendly little chat. Martine's behavior reeked of manipulation and lies.

(He's up to somethin'. Somethin' sneaky.)

For the third time, Selphie repeated her question, a question which had yet to be fully answered. "Whaddya want?"

Still keeping his tone light, Martine responded. "We're hunting sorceresses. We have devised a simple, quick, and painless method for detecting them, and we are checking major population centers and the Gardens for any who are hiding among the populace. Trabia is the last place on our list before we return to Galbadia."

"Ain't no sorceresses here," Irvine said. "So go look somewhere else."

Martine nodded. "To tell the truth, I'm inclined to believe you. I don't think that Trabia Garden would ever knowingly harbor a sorceress. After the destruction wrought by the Sorceress Edea," he gestured at the ruined wall before him, "I find it difficult to imagine that you would then turn and lend her aid."

At the mention of Edea's name, anger flared up in Selphie's chest.

(What does _he_ know about Matron?)

She stepped forward, "Matr—"

"We just wanna be left alone," Irvine said, cutting her off. "There ain't no sorceresses here."

"I would still like to speak to you," Martine said. "The two of you, actually. In addition to tracking sorceresses, we are also trying to learn as much as we can about them. You two were involved in both Edea's assassination attempt and the later battle between the Gardens, in which Edea was finally defeated. Now, if you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you do it?"

Irvine and Selphie both froze. Neither of them had ever considered that they would need to explain, to a Galbadian, the events of the past month. When Selphie mentally rewound the past weeks, she realized that the story was fantastic to the point of being absurd. A time-traveling sorceress who possesses people in the past? Selphie and Irvine going to the future to stop her? Squall going to the moon? It was a crazy story. Too crazy to tell Martine and expect him to buy it.

(But maybe we should tell him anyway. It's the truth, right?)

Irvine was the first to speak, "How did we do what?"

"Defeat her, I mean" Martine said. He clasped his hands behind his back. "She was unstoppable, in total command of my Garden, and tearing a path of destruction across the world. Then, suddenly, you and a handful of others were seen entering Galbadia Garden, where it is presumed that you found and defeated her. That _is_ what happened, correct? You didn't allow her to escape, did you?"

He eyed the pair. He was close enough to the wall for Selphie to read his expressions, and for him to read theirs. She kept her face blank, not wanting to give him any information at all.

Irvine cleared his throat, but responded quickly. "She has been neutralized."

(Guess that's one way of puttin' it.)

Martine nodded. "Interesting. You see, we are very curious about the details of this… neutralization. As it is, there is currently a situation in Timber involving another sorceress, and General Caraway wants to know how Edea was defeated, so that we can apply that method to this sorceress as well. Right now we have no leads and if you two have an idea as to how to effectively neutralize a sorceress, it could save many lives, both in Galbadia and Timber."

(A sorceress in Timber?)

(Oh no! Rinoa!)

Selphie shot a glance at Irvine. He looked at her, the same worried expression on his face as was on hers. When they'd left Garden, Rinoa was the only known sorceress left in the world. Furthermore, she had strong ties to Timber, and had fought to liberate it from Galbadia. If she, for some reason, had gone to Timber, it was more than possible that she might have stirred something up with the Galbadians.

They both looked at Martine.

"Do you know who this sorceress is?" Irvine asked.

Martine stared at Irvine and Selphie. "You mean you haven't heard? It's all over the news."

"Our cable's down," Irvine said. "Has been since the attack."

(The attack Galbadia sent.)

"That's unfortunate," Martine said. Though his tone expressed remorse, Selphie saw the flicker of a smile catch his lips.

(He's planning something sneaky!)

"If you'd been watching the news," Martine said, "Then you would know that the sorceress in question is Caraway's daughter, Rinoa. The one you were meant to deliver back to Deling City, Kinneas."

Selphie knew that Martine was watching her, and she knew that he was up to something, but still, hearing Rinoa's name cross his lips made her gasp. Irvine, too, could not hold back a quick breath, pulled in through clenched teeth.

(He's lying!)

That was Selphie's first instinct. She believed Martine was a manipulator, and he was playing the two of them like drums. But, there was no possible way that he could know Rinoa was a sorceress. Even Squall and everyone else in Garden didn't know that she was a sorceress until very recently, until Rinoa was brought to Esthar. There was a distant chance that Rinoa had confessed to her father recently, but why would she? She hadn't had any contact with him before, and didn't seem at all interested in ever speaking with him again.

(He's lying!... But… how would he know about Rinoa?)

Martine nodded again. "I'm glad you two realize the gravity of the situation. You see, brute force could overwhelm Rinoa and her small resistance, but this is the General's daughter we are speaking of. He's looking for a way, any way, to end this without harming his only child. If you know something, anything, then you could save her life and many others. If you can't help, or refuse to help, then I'm afraid war is imminent."

Selphie only half listened to his speech. Most of her brainpower was spent analyzing every detail of the past weeks, seeing if there was any way that Martine could have found out about Rinoa. After much thought, she concluded that there was no way at all. Which left only two options: either Martine had made the luckiest guess in the whole of human history—by assuming that Rinoa was a sorceress with zero evidence to prove it…

(… Or he's telling the truth.)

The blood drained from Selphie's face, and coherent thought became impossible. Rinoa was in danger, possibly staring down the whole of the Galbadian army at that moment. War was coming, and she knew that neither Caraway nor Rinoa were the type to back down. If one started a fight, the other would finish it.

"How imminent is this war?" Irvine asked. "Tomorrow? Next week?"

"However long it takes the General to plan an assault and move his troops into place," Martine said. "I shouldn't think more than a day or two at the most. But if you agree to meet with him and discuss possible alternatives to violence, I could convince him to delay his attack. At least for a day or two, to allow you time to arrive in Deling City and speak with him personally. G-Garden has a radio link with the General. I could call him, halt the attack, and escort you to him with my Garden. It's no trouble."

(Us? Go into G-Garden?)

Last time they went in there, the Galbadians were massacring SeeDs left and right, and Sorceress Ultimecia still had control over Matron, and Seifer was her lap dog. She was not eager to pay another visit to G-Garden.

"No way!" Selphie said.

Martine took a deep breath and raised his right hand. The conversational tone dropped from his voice, replaced by the military sternness from the beginning of the conversation. "I swear, on my honor as the Headmaster of Galbadia Garden, that I will ensure you safe transport to and from Deling City. Furthermore, Kinneas, if you agree to this, I will formally discharge you from our service and clear your name, removing your AWOL status from the record. You need never serve us again, if that is your desire."

(Yeah, right!)

"Pshaw," Selphie said. She rolled her eyes "Raising your hand and makin' promises. Like we'd fall for that."

"Fine," Irvine said. "I'll go."

"WHAT?" Selphie said. She leapt into the air in her shock and outrage. "You're crazy!"

Irvine looked at her. "I believe him," he said. "I've never seen him break a promise. And he's right, I'm technically AWOL now. He could arrest me on the spot."

"SO?"

"I understand your concerns," Martine said. His tone shifted again, back to being friendly and gentle. "But remember, Galbadia Garden, while under my control, has never harmed you. The battle between Balamb and Galbadia was under the command of the sorceress, not me. This is not the same Galbadia that you fought in the fields of the Centra Continent. We truly want peace in the world, and we mean you no harm."

Selphie knew and understood those facts, but it still did nothing to settle her worries. Her instincts screamed that Martine was lying, but her brain couldn't find the flaw in his logic.

Irvine turned to face Selphie. "You stay here and keep up with the rebuilding project. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"But… but what about," Selphie said. She was suddenly afraid, but not sure why. "We're ambassadors now. We're s'posed to stay here."

"Trabia only needs one ambassador right now," Irvine said. "Get the HD runnin' again as soon as possible. Talk with Squall. Figure out what the hell's goin' on in the world. But if Rinoa's in trouble… I can't just stay here let her get hurt."

(She's my friend too!)

Irvine was stupid that way, thinking that all the burdens and responsibilities of the world were his and his alone, just because he was a guy. If Rinoa was in trouble, then she needed her friends to help her—all of her friends.

But Selphie had friends in Trabia as well, and they needed help too. With an aching heart, she realized that no matter what she did—stay or leave—she would be helping one friend and leaving behind another. She couldn't avoid it.

"Go," Tomomi said from behind Selphie. Selphie spun around to face her.

"But… what about you guys?" Selphie said. "I can't just leave all of you!"

Tomomi shrugged. "We'll be okay for now," she said. "Your friend sounds like she needs you." She gestured out at the ruins beyond the wall. "And trust me, there will still be plenty of work left when you guys come back."

With all the weird, conflicting emotions rushing through her, Selphie thought she would go crazy and explode, though perhaps not in that order. She wanted to help Rinoa, she wanted to help Trabia, she didn't want to leave Irvine, she didn't want to leave Trabia, she didn't trust Martine, she was afraid of Galbadia Garden, she hated Martine's smug, ugly face, she thought Martine was lying to her, but she also didn't think Martine was lying to her.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Irvine reduced her complicated feelings down to the simple choice. "You stayin' or goin'?" he asked.

He reached out one gloved hand. She looked down. His gloves were rifleman's gloves, with the fingertips cut off so he could still easily squeeze a trigger and reload a clip of ammunition. Irvine could play guitar, and the callouses on his fingertips were evidence of that.

"If you don't wanna come, I understand," Irvine said. "But I'd feel better if I wasn't alone."

Selphie looked from his hand to his eyes. Piercing, brown eyes, shaded by the brim of his black cowboy hat in the warm summer afternoon.

(The loneliness of a sharpshooter.)

(… But… I always heard snipers worked in pairs.)

Selphie grabbed his hand.


	9. Chapter 9: To Question Why

_**Chapter 9**_

_**To Question Why**_

(Squall)

Before Squall and Rinoa had left Garden, Xu had found—on an old map—an access road that once traced along the outer rim of the Great Salt Lake, providing a link across the mountain range, connecting Esthar to the East and the Horizon Bridge and Fisherman's Horizon in the West.

That road, left untended for nearly two decades, was a ghost of itself. Time and the elements eroded it away until it was no more than a gap between the trees and steep mountain cliffs. Nature's reclamation of the man-made path was so complete, that they drove past it three times before Rinoa noticed the faint shadows of tire ruts worn into the salty earth.

Squall put the civilian car into four-wheel drive and turned down the trail. A recent rainstorm had turned the road into gray mud that sucked at the car's tires, threatening to glue it to the ground. Squall kept the car in its lowest gear, fighting through muck and over rocks and fallen trees. He'd chosen a more durable all-terrain vehicle for the journey—instead of a faster or more comfortable one—and he was now glad of his decision. Still, even with the car's capabilities, progress was slow and tedious.

(Better than walking, but not by much.)

The high salt concentration in the soil denied life to all but the hardiest scraps of grass and weeds. Desiccated skeletons of trees, poisoned by Esthar's experiments in the region, scratched their branches along windows and roof of the car. Through the trees to the north, Squall could see the white rim of the Great Salt Lake, like a crater in the distance. Towering in the south were the Esthar mountains, blue and gray and jagged.

The road went from muddy to rocky as they headed further east. With every minute, the sharp crags of the mountains edged closer to the lake, narrowing the gap between the rocks and the dry lakebed. Salt from the lake, tossed around by the breeze, sprinkled across the road and up the mountainside, giving the landscape a perpetually snowy ambience, even in summer.

After nearly an hour of driving, the road abruptly ended. The mountain cliffs cut immediately north, blocking the way forward and forming an impassable wall of rock. That wall extended north to the lake, as far in the distance as Squall could see. He stopped, parked the car, and turned the key to shut the engine off.

"I think we're here," he said. Rinoa, who'd been half-dozing, straightened up and blinked.

"Huh?" she muttered, looking around.

The wall ahead appeared normal, and a casual glance would notice nothing amiss. But while the rest of the cliffs in the area followed natural curves and slants—sculpted by eons of water and wind—this section cut across the road at an almost perfect ninety-degree angle. Furthermore, the omnipresent salt, which worked its way into every crevice and dent in the mountains to the south, flittered across the surface of this barrier without ever landing.

(Nothing in nature is this perfect.)

Squall stepped out of the car. He was glad to be wearing his civilian clothes again. The fur that lined his jacket helped shield his neck from the steady, cool breeze coming from the lake. Rinoa stepped out of the passenger side and looked over the top of the car at him.

"Are we just gonna leave the car?" she asked.

"I guess so," Squall said. "We're not staying long, and it's not like it's likely to get stolen out here."

Squall approached the strange cliff face and pressed his gloved hand against it. Instead of being rocky and coarse, it was smooth like a window, and cold. This confirmed it: the cliff was merely a projection, formed by the millions of holographic panels that completely surrounded the city of Esthar. The panels had been programmed to project natural scenery to the outside world, making it seem as if the city beyond had vanished completely.

(This is it.)

"Now we just gotta find a way in," Squall said. He blinked away the salt in his eyes and looked around.

From his previous trip to Esthar, he knew that there was at least one service tunnel leading through the holographic panels and into the city. But it was far to the north, near the middle of the Great Salt Lake, and quite a hike from where the two currently stood. It would be easier if they could find an access route that was nearby.

Squall rapped his knuckles on the panel, hoping that the image would glitch and reveal what was hiding behind it. The picture turned to static around his knuckle for a moment, but did not turn transparent.

(I wonder what it costs Esthar to maintain these panels…)

"Is there a way in?" Rinoa asked.

Before he could answer, Squall heard a mechanical whirring noise from behind the panel, like many gears working together at once. The panels next to Squall and Rinoa turned off their scenery projection and turned flat gray. The effect was disorienting, as if a chunk of the cliff had simply ceased to exist.

(I guess they know we're here.)

A moment later, the grayed-out panels separated from their mates and pulled backwards before sliding behind the holographic wall and out of sight. With the panels no longer blocking the road, Squall and Rinoa could see a long steel tunnel leading onward, just wide and tall enough to accommodate their car. Squall stared, seeing mostly black emptiness, save for a tiny blue light an indeterminable distance away.

"Back to the car," he said, and the two reentered the vehicle. Squall fired it up and drove into the tunnel, the tires rumbling along the metal grating. Once the car was inside, the holographic panels slid back to their original positions, locking the two inside. When the tunnel was sealed, overhead lights in the tunnel flickered to life, illuminating their path.

The tunnel was hexagon-shaped, like much of the architecture in Esthar. The walls were flat and featureless, except for an occasional series of pipes and cables running in the edges of the tunnel. The engine of their car produced a loud, monotonous hum that echoed in the shaft, drowning out Squall's thoughts.

Soon, the tunnel ended at a blue hexagonal platform, illuminated on each of its six corners by glowing lights. The tunnel was surrounded by darkness. Squall stopped the car in the middle of the platform and waited. Robotic arms emerged and gripped the edges of the platform, the arms working in unison to pull the platform away from the tunnel and lift it straight up through the darkness.

Everything was pitch black for several seconds, until suddenly the platform broke out of the shaft, revealing the sprawling blue net of Esthar's floating highways. The roads connected countless buildings that stretched to the horizon like an ocean made of glass. In the distance, looming over the rest of the city, was the Presidential Palace—the massive golden heart of Esthar.

Esthar was a city without gardens or natural beauty. Everything within its limits was maintained, operated, and built by humans and machines. It was a stark, efficient, practical city. Nothing wasted, nothing built that didn't serve the purpose of increasing Esthar's strength and functionality.

The mechanical arms that held the platform pushed and pulled the blue hexagon to one of the nearby blue-glass highways that arced above the buildings. The platform docked with another, larger platform, and the arms freed themselves and retracted into the outer walls of the city, disappearing from sight.

On the larger platform was a small security checkpoint, with a steel gate barring access to the adjacent highway. A shiny outpost building sheltered two Esthar soldiers in their drab gray uniforms and full identity-concealing facemasks. One of these guards approached the driver's side window of Squall's car. Squall rolled down the window and looked up at the soldier.

"You've been given permission to enter by the President," the soldier said, his voice muffled by his mask. "But your car has to stay here."

"Why's that?" Rinoa asked, leaning across the middle armrest of the car.

"Rubber tires damage the roads," the soldier said. "Only hovercars are allowed beyond this point. You can leave your car in the assigned parking over there."

The guard pointed to a few empty parking spaces near the edge of the platform.

Squall nodded. "Understood."

He drove the car to the marked parking spaces. There were only two: a pair of yellow rectangles outlined on the blue platform. Esthar preferred its privacy, almost never admitting outsiders, so there was simply no need for more elaborate guest accommodations. Squall was surprised that this guard post existed at all.

(I wonder why they bother maintaining this station.)

He rolled to a stop in one of the yellow rectangles and shut off the engine.

While he would have loved another chance to explore the city and learn more about it and how it worked, the pressing concerns of Garden and Timber—and the mystery of the sorceress from time compression—weighed heavily on his mind. Every second wasted was another chance for something to go wrong back home. He, with Rinoa right behind, marched up to one of the Esthar guards.

"What's the fastest way to the Presidential Palace?" he asked.

"Take the pipes across the road," the soldier said, pointing vaguely behind him. "At the second stop, switch over to the Presidential Line."

"Thanks," Squall said. Rinoa smiled and waved at the guards as she followed him.

In addition to the staggeringly complicated network of skyways that reached almost every point in Esthar, there was an equally impressive maze of glass tubes. Circular transport platforms shuttled pedestrians through the tubes quickly, ensuring that no one in Esthar ever had to walk far to get anywhere.

Squall and Rinoa crossed the skyway to the tube on the other side. There was a gap in the red glass of the tube, which formed a hub between multiple other tubes and allowed them inside. There, sitting in the middle of the gap, was a circular platform with wide, round seat in the middle. The two sat down on the cushion.

Detecting the weight of passengers, the transport hovered above the ground, emitting a high-pitched sound and a soft glow. A series of lights shimmered at Squall and Rinoa's feet, illuminating a panel that asked which direction they wished to travel. Squall pressed one boot on the button that pointed the direction the guard had indicated. The transport emitted a confirmation chime, then sped off towards the Presidential Palace in the center of Esthar.

Rinoa sat with her hands in her lap and her eyes going in all directions. She occasionally bumped into Squall as she twisted and turned, gawking at all the sights of the city. Squall, too, couldn't help but let his eyes drift back and forth across the majestic city skyline. The order and purpose of the buildings gave him a sense of peace. A feeling that everything was under control—as least as long as it was in Esthar.

"This is so cool," Rinoa said breathlessly.

"Hm?" Squall said. He looked at her. "Oh, I forgot. This is only your second time here, right? Second time being awake, anyway."

"Yeah. First time doesn't count," Rinoa said. "I was sleeping."

Rinoa continued to shuffle around, looking at anything and everything. Through the red glass of the tube, the city had a wavy, distorted look, adding to the alien quality of the unique nation. On distant skyways, hovercars zipped along at speeds only seen on racetracks elsewhere in the world. Giant glass buildings, simultaneously delicate and intimidating, towered over each other, competing for pieces of the sky. People in the traditional white robes of Esthar milled about in city squares and along the hundreds of walkways around the city.

(I like it here.)

Esthar was the pinnacle of human achievement. Through a combination of science and magic, the people of the nation had gained dominion over the forces of the planet, taking the elemental power of nature and bending it to their will. They were a nation of thinkers, dreamers, loners, and—now in the absence of the Sorceress Adel—a peaceful people, wishing to be left out of the political turmoil of other nations. In another life, Squall would have been happy to count himself among the city's denizens.

(But I'm a SeeD, and my duties lie elsewhere.)

The transport stopped and hovered above a hole in the tube. Beneath the hole was another skyway, with several more tubes running to and from it in all directions, like spokes on a wheel. A feminine computer voice asked if they wanted to depart. Squall found and pushed a red button with his foot to decline the offer, and the platform continued on to the next stop.

(Second stop, then switch to the Presidential Line.)

After a moment, Squall noticed that Rinoa had become still. No longer gawking at the scenery, she'd become quiet and thoughtful, staring down at her hands in her lap.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I can't tell what I'm more nervous about," Rinoa said. "Talking to Ellone and Odine, or worrying about Timber and what's going on back home."

(I'm worried too…)

Garden was always in his mind. When he'd been just a regular SeeD, he thought nothing of leaving Garden and trusting its leadership to others. But since becoming Commander, he felt somewhat anxious about SeeD when he was away, like a parent leaving a child home alone. He had to remind himself that Garden was in capable hands, and had survived for over a decade without his constant surveillance.

"Quistis can take care of Garden and Timber," Squall said. He reached over and rested a confident hand on her shoulder. "You just have to focus on the present right now. We need to ask the right questions, and not forget about anything. We might not get another chance to come back here for a long time."

"Right," Rinoa said. He couldn't tell if his words had much effect, but she seemed to loosen up a little after his speech.

(I'm no good with words…)

The platform reached its second exit, and slowed to a stop above another hole in the bottom of the tube. Once again the computerized voice asked if this was their stop. This time, Squall pushed a green button with his foot, and the platform dropped down out of the tunnel and hovered a step above a walkway. The two stood up and hopped off. With one smooth motion, the platform rose up and into the tube, returning to its starting point, leaving Squall and Rinoa on the walkway.

There was a tube running parallel to this walkway. Bold, white text on the side read "PRESIDENTIAL PALACE" with an arrow pointing north along the tunnel. Squall and Rinoa entered the tube and sat on another transport. This one, like the other, rose from the ground with a whine and a glow and sped off.

"I'm worried they're not gonna know anything," Rinoa said. "That this will all be a big waste of time."

That thought had crossed Squall's mind more than once already. After Rinoa had fallen into a coma, he had journeyed to Esthar in search of answers. He'd assumed that a nation as advanced as Esthar would be able to quickly figure out what was wrong with her. He'd been disappointed to discover that they could not, and the best solution they could offer involved a convoluted trip into outer space that, ultimately, revealed little and only furthered Ultimecia's plans.

Now, once more, he was journeying to Esthar for answers. He hoped to have better luck with this second trip.

(They have to know something.)

"This is Esthar," Squall said, speaking with a confidence he did not quite feel. "If they don't know right away, they can find out. At the very least, we can ask them to start researching the answers we need. The trip won't be pointless."

"I hope so," Rinoa said.

The platform stopped again, this time in front of the Presidential Palace. The enormous structure that had been lurking on the horizon all this time was now right upon them, obscuring a wide swath of the sky. Squall tapped the green button by his foot, and the platform settled down, allowing the two to step off. They exited the tube and stepped onto the walkway, mingling with other pedestrians and heading up towards the building.

The Presidential Palace was aptly named. It was not merely the center of Esthar's government and military, it was an ostentatious work of art, a true palace if there ever was one. Squall couldn't tell which pieces of the building were functional and which were merely displays of Esthar's skill and technology. Encircling the building were pipelines with flashing blue lights at set intervals, making the whole edifice look like the world's largest model of an atom, completed with nucleus and electrons.

(Maybe that's what it's supposed to be…)

The two walked down the path towards the front door, passing a number of Esthar people in their elaborate robes who cast wary glances at the oddly-dressed foreign couple. The front wall of the palace was a shimmering wall of gold, with golden arches spanning across the entryway. On either side of the path, the floor had been artificially colored a natural shade of green, impersonating grass without having to deal with the hassle of growing or maintaining real plants.

Outside the front entrance was yet another circular platform. This one was larger than all the rest they'd seen thus far. Squall and Rinoa sat on it and waited to be carried into the palace. Unlike the regular street platforms, this platform created a translucent pink bubble that enveloped the transport. The protective bubble shielded its passengers from wind and kept them from falling off as the platform shot off into the heart of the palace at high speed.

The core of the palace was a cavernous hub, dozens of stories high, with hundreds of tubes extending to every sector of the massive building. A central pillar sat in the middle of the vast space, glowing and pulsing. Other transports, surrounded by pink bubbles, darted around like bees in a hive.

A computerized voice, masculine this time, asked for Squall and Rinoa's destination.

"President's Quarters," Squall said, speaking slowly. He remembered that this platform was voice-activated from his last trip to Esthar.

"President's Quarters," the voice repeated.

Now that it had been given a specific destination, the transport gathered speed as it raced along glowing pillars of light and around blue and gray machines of indiscernible function. The transport flew upwards before turning and ducking into another tube many stories off the ground level.

Once it'd gone a ways into the tunnel, the platform slid to a stop at the start of a long hallway. The bubble surrounding them evaporated as quickly as if Squall had popped it with his finger as the transport settled down to the ground. Squall and Rinoa stepped off and continued on foot.

They passed a number of closed doorways in the red-carpeted hall. Each doorway bore the crescent-moon-and-star insignia of the nation of Esthar, and had at least two guards standing watch outside, armed with futuristic rifles. Though their masks obscured their faces, Squall could feel their watchful eyes follow him down the hall.

(I wonder what they think of my gunblade.)

(Do they think it's a threat, or a primitive toy?)

After a short distance, the hallway extended out beyond the walls of the building, reaching into empty space. Here it turned into a glass tunnel, reinforced with metal. Squall could look down between his feet and see, obscured through the glass, a frighteningly long drop straight down onto the buildings and streets far below. He pressed on, despite a persistent, nagging fear that the glass would shatter and send him plummeting to his death.

(Don't look down.)

Finally, at the very end of the hall, was another doorway, flanked on either side by Esthar soldiers. Squall approached the soldiers, then stopped. Rinoa stood by his side.

"You are expected," one of the guards said. "Wait here and I will alert the president of your arrival."

The guard turned around and opened the door, vanishing into the room beyond. Several minutes of awkward silence passed, before the guard returned. He nodded and gestured for the door.

"The President is waiting," the guard said.

"Thanks," Rinoa said. Squall nodded.

Squall stepped forward and pushed open the door. The room beyond was iridescent purple, with strange cables and devices reaching around the walls. Squall couldn't tell if they served a purpose or were just decorations. The middle of the room was dominated by a low, flat desk—obsidian or granite or synthetic, Squall couldn't be sure—that was scattered with papers. Behind the desk sat Laguna Loire, President of Esthar. Beside him stood his two best friends, Kiros and Ward, dressed in the white robes of Esthar.

Laguna, apparently, had still not taken a liking to Esthar's customary attire and wore an untucked pastel shirt and khaki slacks. When the two walked into the room, he glanced up from the paperwork around him and beamed broadly, as if Squall and Rinoa were a pair of visiting celebrities.

(He's always excited to see everybody.)

"Hey, guys!" Laguna said, waving. He stood up quickly, clipping his knee on the edge of his desk. He cried out and winced, then—showing more caution—stepped away from the desk and walked around it to greet his guests. He limped on his sore leg over to Squall and shook his hand, then shook with Rinoa. He rubbed his knee for a second, his long black hair falling over his face, his grin never fading. Kiros and Ward followed behind him, remaining a respectful distance behind the President.

"So, what's the occasion?" Laguna asked. "I guess you're here on business, right? I woulda sent someone to escort you here, but you guys never give me any warning, you know? All I can do is tell the guards to let you in."

(We don't need an escort.)

"We're here to ask some questions," Squall said. He turned to Rinoa. "You want to handle this?"

"Yeah," Rinoa said. She took a deep breath, then said, "We'd need information about Adel. Can you help us?"

Laguna nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. To Squall, he seemed to almost be mocking Rinoa with his exaggerated movements and silly expression. Squall had to remind himself that Laguna had always acted that way, for as long as Squall had known him.

(He's like a cartoon character.)

"Adel, huh?" Laguna said. "I know some stuff, but I'm not really the expert, you know? I came into the picture pretty late. But I'll do my best to answer any questions ya got. So… whaddya wanna know?"

Rinoa got right to it. "There's this memory I have," she said. "Of Adel a long time ago. And I want to know more about it."

Laguna's hand went from his chin to the back of his head. "Like… how far back are we talkin'?" he asked.

"Thirty or forty years, at least," Squall said. "Maybe more."

"Psh, I won't know anything then," Laguna said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I thought you meant, like, ten or fifteen years ago. That's all I would know."

His arms uncrossed, then went to his hips.

(Does he ever hold still?)

Rinoa pressed on.

"Well, do you know how Adel came to Esthar?" she asked. "Or where she came from?"

"Nope and nnnope," Laguna said. He turned his body at an angle to Squall and Rinoa and looked at the wall thoughtfully, once more crossing his arms. "From what I heard, she just kinda showed up suddenly. One day she wasn't here, the next she was. She started doing sorceress stuff, took over the place, and made herself ruler. Well, until I came along, anyway. When I first came here, I'd kinda thought that she'd always been in charge of Esthar, or at least had been in charge for a really long time. Well, she _was_ in charge for a long time, but not as long as I was thinking. Some of the old fogeys around town still remember what it was like here before she came, and they remember when she changed everything. But how she got here, why she came here, and where she came from… I dunno. I guess maybe—"

"Laguna," Kiros said, his voice soft, but stern. "You're rambling."

Laguna smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Heh, yeah, a little."

(Some things don't change. Some people, either.)

Trying to keep the conversation on point, Squall said, "We're also here for another reason. A sorceress we encountered during the time compression event suddenly appeared in our Garden. We thought maybe Dr. Odine or someone else would be able to help us figure out how and why."

"Heh, you know, funny you should mention that," Laguna said. He crossed his arms and smiled. "Cause two days ago, the same thing happened here."

Rinoa gasped. Even Squall was taken aback.

(Damn it. I was hoping it was an isolated event.)

"What?" Rinoa said. "There's another one?"

"Yup," Laguna said. "Popped into town near the airport. Just… bam, suddenly there's a sorceress. People were freakin' out, but we got her under control before she did any damage."

Squall crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

(If there's two, then there's probably three, or four.)

(How many sorceresses did we fight in total?)

"What do you mean?" Rinoa said. Squall, absorbed in his thoughts, only half listened to the conversation. "What did you do to her?"

"I sent some soldiers out and they rounded her up," Laguna said. His hands returned to his hips. "From what I heard, she didn't even put up a fight. Dr. Odine called dibs on her, so she's been at O Lab ever since. We thought about talkin' to you guys about it, but we never really got around to it. Been busy around here, you know? And Esthar shut down most of its outside communications, so it'd be hard to get the word out to SeeD, even if we tried."

(If they all come back at once, then there could theoretically be a dozen new sorceresses in the world. It'd be chaos.)

"She's not hurt, is she?" Rinoa asked. She stepped forward, hand pressed against her chest. "What's Odine doing to her?"

Laguna shrugged. "Beats me. I kinda just… let him do his thing, you know? Best not to get in Odine's way."

(What would Galbadia do if they got ahold of a sorceress? Or Timber, for that matter?)

(… Or both at once?)

"I… I have to go to O Lab," Rinoa said. She looked around anxiously. "Which way is it?"

"Hey, don't sweat it. I'll take you two," Laguna said. He waved his hand. "I'm itchin' to get out of the office for a bit anyway. And Ellone is there now too, so I can visit her while I'm out. Two birds with one stone, eh?"

(Wait…)

"Why's Ellone at O Lab?" Squall asked. He looked at the President.

"Um… I think Odine can explain it better than I could," Laguna said. "I'd just end up forgettin' something important and confusin' you. So lemme take you to Odine and he'll tell you all about it. Okay? Okay!"

"Laguna," Kiros said. His face was a mask of pent-up frustration. "Squall already knows the way to O Lab. You don't have to personally escort them. And we've still got a lot of work to do here."

Laguna waved him off. "Eh, it can wait," he said. "I'll be back in a bit, 'kay? Hold my calls."

Kiros sighed. "Fine…"

"Let's go," Laguna said. With a bright smile, he led his two guests out of his office. Kiros and Ward exchanged a glance. Ward rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Out in the hallway, the two Esthar guards stiffened to attention when they saw the President. They started to follow behind him, acting as personal guards, but he dismissed them with a wave, sending them back to their posts.

"Lemme catch you guys up real quick," Laguna said. "A lotta stuff has been goin' on around here since you left. As you can see, we finally cleared the city of monsters. One hundred percent containment again. Hoo boy, that was a pain. You couldn't go anywhere without an escort for like, a week. Totally messed up the whole country. You know, like the economy and what have you. But the Esthar plains are still completely overrun since the Lunar Cry, and we can't get troops or scientists over to our satellite buildings or anything. It's like a monster mosh party out there. You can't swing a sword without hitting ten or twenty of 'em. It's crazy. We've been dumping artillery on the plains to thin the horde, but it's not doin' much."

Squall didn't pay much attention, allowing Laguna's voice serve as white noise in the background of his thoughts.

(If two sorceresses appeared in as many days, then there must be more.)

(We have to finish up here as quickly as possible.)

They reached the end of the hallway where the circular transport awaited them. Laguna plopped down hard on the chair and waited for Squall and Rinoa to join him. When they were all seated, Laguna kicked a button at his feet, sending the platform into motion. When a pink bubble encased the platform, Laguna continued talking.

"By the way, the Ragnarok is still stuck in the side of the Lunatic Pandora," Laguna said. "We haven't been able to get it out, so I guess it'll stay there for a while. Thought you might be curious."

"Sorry about that," Squall said.

Laguna shrugged. "Hey, no biggie," he said.

(Galbadia would probably execute any sorceresses on sight.)

(They won't chance another incident like with Deling.)

The platform sped out through the front gate and emerged into the sunlight of Esthar. It slid to a stop, disintegrating the pink bubble. The three stepped off the platform and Laguna led the way to the nearest tube, further down the road.

(But what about Timber and Dollet? What would they do with a sorceress?)

"The loss of the lunar base really screwed things up too," Laguna said. "Again, not your fault. But we had a bunch of research projects going on up there, and the Esthar scientists are riled up at losing a big chunk of their data. Yeah, most of it was backed up on files here in the city, so it's not like they lost everything. But they're still upset about losing the equipment, you know? And they've been all up my back about that."

(This man never shuts up.)

Another platform waited at the tube across the street. Laguna flopped down, soon joined by Squall and Rinoa. Laguna kicked another button, sending them down the tube away from the palace.

"The scientists want more funding to replace their lost equipment," Laguna said. "And the military wants more funding to fight off the monsters in the fields. And the techs are telling me that the holograph panel things need maintenance and need more funding. Odine wants funds for an expedition to retrieve the Lunatic Pandora so he can study it some more. Everyone needs money, and they're all coming to me to get it."

"Because you're the president," Squall said, coming down from his thoughts and rejoining the conversation.

"Well, yeah. I'm just sayin' it kinda sucks bein' president sometimes. I mean, it's not like I wanted to be here. I didn't campaign to be elected. Oh um… I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"Yes," Squall said. Rinoa lifted her hand to her mouth to conceal a smile.

"Oh, sorry. Kiros and Ward are always on me about that. They're tryin' to get me to cut down on it. Say it's bad manners or something. But I'm just tryin' to be friendly, you know? Bein' open and honest is important, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure," Squall said noncommittally.

(I should still find out as much as I can, while I've got his attention…)

"Is there any other news we should know about?" Squall asked.

"You mean with Esthar or in general?" Laguna asked. He crossed his arms and looked up, as if the answer was written on the top of the tube. "Well, we always got a lot going on here. It's a big country, you know? The sorceress and the Lunar Cry and all that business kinda took over the news for a while. Ellone's been doing good. She talks about you guys a lot. She likes it in Esthar, but I think she'd rather be back on the White SeeD ship, you know? I dunno. I try not to bug her about it."

(Sis…)

"Oh, we're here," Laguna said, pressing a button to stop the transport.

The platform eased to a stop. Across the road was an ornate blue building. It didn't particularly stand out from the rest of Esthar's architecture, and would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for the words "Odine's Laboratory" written on the inside of the tube, on the road, and on the building itself. Laguna jumped off the platform and headed down the walkway into the building, his guests a step behind.

O Lab opened into a small entryway, with strange machines on either side. In the middle of the room was yet another hover platform, which could bring passengers up the transparent tube near the ceiling and straight ahead to the second floor.

(I wonder how the people of Esthar get any exercise…)

Laguna walked around the platform and headed for a door across from the front entrance, marked with Esthar's seal.

"Dr. Odine's probably gonna be on the first floor," Laguna said. "That's where he does most of his researchy stuff."

As he approached the door, it automatically withdrew into the ceiling, admitting the trio inside. The next room was empty and gray, with several more doors leading to different parts of the lab. As they walked through, Squall recognized this as the room where Ellone was being held before Laguna found her.

Laguna picked a door and proceeded inside.

The room beyond the doorway was filled with a countless number of ongoing experiments. Computers measured data as colorful chemicals and liquids were combined in test tubes and beakers. A handful of aides scurried around the lab in modified white Esthar robes. They went from station to station, monitoring the equipment and making sure everything ran smoothly. Occasionally, they would mark something down on a clipboard, or punch some numbers into a keypad.

Ellone sat on a chair in the far-right corner, with a strange helmet strapped to her head. The helmet had dozens of glowing wires extending from it, all connecting to a nearby computer. A monitor next to her displayed a chart with crisscrossing lines moving up and down the screen in rhythmic patterns. Ellone looked bored, but otherwise unaffected by the experiment.

(Why is Odine running tests on her?)

When she saw Squall and Rinoa, she smiled and waved. Rinoa waved back, while Squall nodded curtly.

Dr. Odine himself was easy to spot, with his purple robes and his absurd red-and-white striped collar that resembled a flattened umbrella. He shuffled quickly around the lab, double checking his figures, nodding and mumbling to himself.

Squall was about to approach the doctor when his eyes fell upon a large tube on the far side of the lab.

The tube was filled with a pale green liquid. Floating in the tube was another one of the sorceresses from time compression. Her limp blonde hair drifted in the bubbling liquid. The ornate clothes she'd worn in her battle against the SeeDs were wet and clung to her emaciated frame. She was not hooked up to any breathing apparatus, despite being underwater, yet somehow she still gave signs of life. Her eyes were half-lidded, but blinked occasionally. At intervals, her arm or leg would twitch.

(So it's true. There's another one in Esthar.)

Rinoa pushed her way past the aides and past Odine, stepping right up to the tube. She placed her whole hand on the glass, her fingers spread wide. She stood there for a moment, watching the sorceress. The sorceress responded to Rinoa's presence, slowly raising her own withered hand towards the girl, her arm limp in the water, reaching for Rinoa but unable to touch her.

"Vat are you doing?" Dr. Odine asked Rinoa, finally taking notice of her. He stomped on the floor and shook his fist. "Step away from zat!"

One hand still on the glass, Rinoa spun around to face the doctor. "Why is she in this tube? What are you doing to her?"

"Ve are learning about ze sorceress," Dr. Odine said. "Ze great Odine finally has a test subject worthy of his talents. Ze data I obtain from her iz invaluable!"

"Let her out," Rinoa said. "You can't do this to her."

Dr. Odine shook his finger at her. "You are crazy! Get away from my experiment!"

(She's not just an experiment. She's a sorceress. A person.)

Squall examined the sorceress in the tube. It—_she_, Squall reminded himself—was dead, same as the other one that had appeared in Garden's cafeteria. She was dead, and Squall and the others had killed her. When he had battled that same sorceress only a short time ago, he had felt nothing. No remorse, no pity for his foe. Even Rinoa had joined in the battle without hesitation or regret.

But that was different. That was a battle. Now, their foe has been defeated, and she was being used like an animal, like a piece of meat. Squall was not particularly sentimental about using cadavers for research, but there was something still distinctly alive—maybe even conscious—in that body. Thinking about it made him shudder.

(It could be Rinoa in that tube.)

(Trapped. Suffering.)

Squall stepped forward and approached Odine. "Let her out of the tube," he said.

Odine spun around. "Vat? You too? Everyone here iz crazy!" He faced the president. "Laguna! Do something useful and arrest these two! They trespass in O Lab! They interrupt my work!"

Laguna grinned and scratched his head. "You know, I would, but I kinda agree with them. I don't really like the idea of using people as test subjects. Maybe you oughtta let her go?"

Odine threw his hands up. "You are useless! I vill not vote for you in next election!"

"You never voted for me to begin with," Laguna said, crossing his arms.

"_And I vill keep it zat way_!" Odine yelled. He stomped his feet in rage.

"Let her out, Odine," Squall said. He moved forward to emphasize his statement, subtly drawing attention to both his superior height and the gunblade strapped to his waist. Odine looked up at him and sneered.

"Or vat?" Odine said. "You kill Odine? You break my hand? Vat vill you do, huh? Nothing! You cannot threaten Odine. Get out of my lab!"

(He's got a point. I can't threaten him. I need him.)

But Rinoa had a different idea. She slapped her hand hard against the glass, using some of her sorceress powers to strengthen the strike. The sound of the impact was like a gunshot in the laboratory, causing all the aides to stop what they were doing and turn to her. Tiny spider cracks appeared in the glass underneath Rinoa's hand.

"Let her out," Rinoa said. "Or I'll _break_ her out."

It was faint, but Squall could hear Odine growl just a little bit.

"Step away from ze glass," Odine said. His hands balled into fists.

"Let her out," Rinoa said. "I'll give you five seconds. Five… Four…"

"Fine!" Odine said. His shook his hand at Rinoa. "But you do something for Odine in return!"

Rinoa hesitated. "What do you want?"

"You become experiment instead!" Odine said. "You still sorceress, right? You become my test subject."

"What? No!" Rinoa said, a look of disgust crossing her face.

"Yes! Or no deal!" Odine said. He crossed his arms and grinned smugly. Rinoa pressed her hand harder against the glass, glowing magical energy pulsing from her fingertips as she focused her powers. The tiny spider cracks spread out, growing longer and deeper. Rinoa's magic produced a soft hum in the air.

She continued her countdown from where she'd left off. "Three… two…"

Odine shrieked, hopping from foot to foot and pumping his arms. "All right! Stop counting! Let Odine do one test on you, then I will let ze sorceress out. One test!"

Rinoa withdrew her power—the light and the sound fading away—but kept her hand on the glass.

"What's the test?" she asked.

"Simple! Painless! Let Odine analyze your brain waves," Odine said. "You plan to absorb ze sorceress, correct?"

She nodded.

"Then let me get your readings before and after. Quick and painless, Odine assures you."

Rinoa hesitated. She looked to Squall, questions in her eyes. He thought for a moment.

(I don't think Odine will try anything underhanded.)

Squall nodded to Rinoa.

"It'll be okay," Ellone said, still sitting in the corner with the odd device tied to her head. "I've gotten brain scans before without any problems."

Rinoa paused, then let her hand fall to her side. Odine sighed in relief. Inside the tube, the sorceress stopped reaching towards Rinoa, allowing her hand to go limp and float in the water. Odine pointed to the chair where Ellone was currently sitting.

"Go to ze scanner," Odine said. He pointed at Ellone. "You! Get out."

Ellone seemed startled at Odine's tone, but she complied. She unclipped a chin strap and pulled off the helmet. When the helmet was no longer touching her head, the nearby monitor near her went blank, no longer churning out numbers or graphs. Ellone set the helmet on the chair and moved away.

"Don't worry," Ellone said to Rinoa. "It's harmless."

Rinoa nodded, then took the helmet in her hands. She placed it on her head and fastened the chinstrap. Immediately, the monitor returned to life, spitting out all sorts of new data. The wavy lines on the screen vaguely resembled the ones Ellone had been putting out, but they rose and fell at different frequencies. Rinoa turned and sat in the chair, looking with trepidation around the lab. Squall moved across the room to stand near her.

(If Sis says it's okay…)

Squall nodded at Rinoa, reassuringly. She tried to smile, but the heavy weight of the helmet made her smile strained and uncomfortable.

Odine pointed at one of his aides.

"Get backups of all ze data," Odine said. "Don't miss anything!"

The aide nodded and moved to the monitor by Rinoa's head, keying in some letters and numbers into a keypad. A printer a few steps away released copies of all the charts and numbers while Odine stepped up to the monitor and studied it. Squall stood next to him, trying to decipher the strange data. He thought that it would be simple, but the data seemed to be encoded, and made almost no sense at all. Included among the familiar numbers and letters were strange glyphs that flickered seemingly at random.

(Does he encrypt his own research?)

Squall wouldn't be surprised if he did. Odine had a world-wide reputation as one of the greatest living scientists, and protecting his research from competitors was probably a primary concern of his.

After a moment, Odine nodded. With great regret, he looked at Rinoa.

"Okay," Odine said. "You may have ze sorceress now. But do not take ze helmet off until I say!"

Odine reluctantly turned to face one of his aides. "Release ze sorceress," he said.

An aide at another computer nodded and input a series of codes into a computer. A warning klaxon sounded once, and the green fluid began to drain out of the tube. Rinoa and Squall watched as the fluid emptied out, leaving the sorceress in a crumpled, waterlogged heap on the floor of the tube. The aide pressed another button, another klaxon sounded, and the glass tube slid down into the floor and out of sight.

"Bring ze sorceress here," Odine said.

Two aides nodded and stepped into the tube. Their shoes squeaked on the wet floor as they bent over, one on each side, and lifted the sorceress up by her armpits. Allowing the sorceress' legs to drag on the floor, the aides hauled the limp body across the room and dropped her roughly at Rinoa's feet. Rinoa scowled at the two men, but said nothing.

(They're carrying her like a sack of meat.)

"Go ahead," Odine said, softly. "Take her."

Rinoa bent down, careful not to unplug any of the wires on the helmet. Her fingertips brushed along the bare skin of the sorceress' shoulder. The sorceress shook. The motion seemed to transfer to Rinoa, making her arm, then her entire body twitch. She shuddered in the chair, then was still.

As with the sorceress in Garden's cafeteria, the sorceress on the floor exhaled luxuriously, as if she'd been holding her breath for hours. A gentle, heatless blue flame engulfed her and she was gone a moment later—no trace left behind. Rinoa slumped in the chair, seemingly worn out by the event, but unharmed.

"Okay?" Squall asked.

Rinoa nodded and rubbed her eyes, as if she was sleepy.

Odine saw none of this. He was glued to the monitor since the sorceress had been removed from the tube. After a moment, his eyes narrowed in thought and frustration.

"How can this be?" he muttered.

"Can I take the helmet off now?" Rinoa asked. She already had her hand to the buckle on the chinstrap.

"One second!" Odine said, waving his hand at her without looking. "You ruin my experiment! You vill be patient!"

Odine gestured for one of his aides to approach him. The aide joined Odine at the monitor, crowding Squall and making him take a step back. Odine and the aide whispered back and forth for a few seconds, occasionally glancing at Rinoa. The aide rushed to the printer and pulled out a few sheets of paper, comparing the results from before and after, and showing them to Odine.

After a while, the doctor turned Rinoa.

"You may take off ze helmet," Odine said. Rinoa unbuckled the chinstrap, stood up, and set the helmet onto the chair behind her. The monitor went blank again. She stepped over to Squall, who placed a protective hand on her shoulder. The aide swooped over and picked the helmet up. He and Odine took turns examining it.  
"Iz it defective?" Odine asked. "Damaged? Calibrated?"

"Everything seems fine," the aide said, eyeing the helmet. . "The helmet is in perfect order."

"Damn it all!" Odine said. "Odine must come up with new hypothesis."

"Why?" Squall asked. "What just happened?"

Squall crossed his arms. He noticed that both Laguna and Ellone were now standing behind him, watching Odine.

"Ze old hypothesis iz wrong," Odine said, not looking at Squall. "Odine must come up with a new one. Such things happen in science."

"I understood that much," Squall said. "But what was the original hypothesis?"

Odine sighed, as if he was being asked a simple question by a slow-witted child. He turned around to face the group. "Until now, ze theory was that ze sorceress powers compounded when a sorceress passed her powers to another sorceress. Then that old sorceress power is added to new sorceress power, and new sorceress now twice as strong as before. Understand?"

(He thought Rinoa would get stronger after absorbing the sorceress.)

Odine eyed Squall. Squall nodded that he understood, and the doctor continued.

"That would explain why Sorceress Ultimecia is so strong, yes? She iz last sorceress in ze world, and absorbed all other sorceresses, making her ze most powerful. But look."

Odine gestured at the screen.

"Girl in blue absorbed sorceress power, and there iz no change! Energy level, brainwave pattern, all exact same as before! Ze sorceress powers do not compound! But I have other hypothesis."

(Now we're finally learning something.)

"What's the other hypothesis?" Squall asked.

"Odine no tell you!" Odine said. He shook with anger. "Odine cannot test hypothesis now, because you ruin my experiment! Leave my lab! I help you no more! From now on, I put armed guards at front door! No one enter without permission! 'Specially not idiot president and moron child friends!"

"Hey!" Laguna said, mildly offended.

Squall sighed. Odine was probably the only one in the city who could answer their questions, and—by their actions—they may have irrevocably turned him against them.

(I hope it's not too late to convince him to help us…)

Swallowing his pride, Squall spoke up. "We actually came here because we need your help," he said.

"Why Odine help you?" Odine muttered. "You cause nothing but trouble."

(If I was Odine, I probably wouldn't help me either.)

As Squall was thinking of a way to convince the doctor, Ellone stepped forward, standing beside Squall and Rinoa.

"Dr. Odine," she said softly, but firmly. "Please answer their questions, or else I won't let you run any more tests on me."

Odine growled. He glared at Ellone. "Fine. Everyone iz against Odine today. Vat do you vant to know? Make it quick."

(I see how it works. Just threaten his experiments and he caves in.)

(I'll have to remember that.)

Squall turned to Rinoa. "Rinoa? You want to ask, or should I?"

Rinoa bit her lip. "I have so many questions. Let's… let's just start simple. Where did that sorceress come from?"

"Ze sorceress appeared in ze city a few days ago," Odine said. "Was caught by Esthar soldiers and brought here."

"I know that, but why did she come to Esthar at all?" Rinoa asked.

"Odine only have guess," Odine said. "No test data to verify yet."

"Well, what's your guess?" Rinoa asked.

Odine shifted uncomfortably. He looked at Laguna and Ellone, then answered. "Sorceress came for Esthar's draw point," he said. "Energy from ze draw point attracts ze sorceress, brings her here. That is my guess. Odine has no proof, and needs more research to confirm."

(Of all the places in the world, of all the times in all of history, the sorceress came to Esthar for a common draw point?)

(I don't understand.)

"A draw point?" Squall asked.

"Yes," Odine said. His voice rose with a hint of anger. "You are SeeD, no? You should know what draw point iz."

"I know what it is," Squall said. "But they're very common. There must be hundreds or thousands in the world. Why did it come to this one?"

"Esthar's draw point iz biggest in ze world," Odine said. "Other draw points spit out little bits of magic. One spell here. Four, five spells here. Pitiful little amounts. Esthar's draw point hundreds of times ze size, produce hundreds of times ze energy. Massive energy for ze sorceress. Like giant beacon for ze sorceress."

Squall crossed his arms. "I didn't know draw points got so big."

"Of course you don't," Odine said. "Only Esthar knows. We keep it secret from Galbadia, so they cannot harvest the energy like Esthar."

(Harvest the energy?)

The information clicked in Squall's brain.

"Is that how your technology is powered?" he asked. "By this massive draw point?"

Odine snarled and looked to Laguna. "They are making me reveal Esthar military secrets! Arrest them! They are Galbadian spies!"

Laguna scoffed. "Eh, they ain't no spies. Go on. I'm actually curious to hear about this too. You always keep me out of the loop on this kinda stuff."

Odine grumbled, but continued. "Yes. Esthar technology powered by draw point. We learn ze trick by studying old Centra technology. They harvested draw points generations ago. Ze technology make Centra greatest nation in ze world. Now it makes Esthar ze greatest."

(Interesting…)

"But if Esthar has the biggest draw point," Squall said, "Then why did a sorceress come to our Garden? Wouldn't they all be drawn here, to this one?"

Odine muttered under his breath and looked at Laguna. Laguna nodded for him to continue. Odine rolled his eyes. "Garden iz made from old Centra technology. Iz powered by massive draw point too. Not as big as Esthar draw point, but still big enough to attract ze sorceress. But this iz all hypothesis. Stop asking Odine questions! I know nothing."

"But if you're right…" Squall said. He looked way and slipped into his thoughts.

(If he's right, then all the Gardens are powered by draw points. That explains why we never needed to fuel up the Garden: it was sitting on its energy source the whole time.)

(But if all the Gardens have the same energy source, and they're all on draw points as large as ours…)

"Would other sorceresses be drawn to Galbadia Garden or Trabia Garden?" Squall asked.

"Iz possible," Odine said with a shrug. "Also draw point in Timber. That one in Timber iz second biggest. Iz what make land so fertile. Also one in Galbadia. Two on Centra continent also. Maybe more in ze world. Odine has not found all draw points yet."

(Hmm…)

(If more are coming, and Odine's hypothesis is correct, then they might head to those places.)

(Hopefully they'll be more attracted to the draw point in Esthar. If they spread out among the different draw points around the world, it would be terrible.)

"Well, that might explain why the sorceress came to Garden," Squall said. "And we now know where to expect more, if more come."

(That's one question answered.)

"I still don't know how we never realized it," Squall said, partially to himself. "Balamb Garden's been sitting on a massive draw point, and no one figured it out?"

"SeeD use Guardian Forces to find draw points," Odine said. "But ze GF looks for small draw points with condensed energy to form magic spells. GF do not detect large, disperse draw points, because GF cannot use such energy. If they cannot use it, they ignore it. That iz why you never know about it."

(Makes sense…)

"I still want to know about Adel," Rinoa said. She looked to Squall, then to the doctor. "So what do you know about Adel's past? Can you help us there?"

"Ze sorceress' past?" Odine asked. He shook his head. "Not much. Everything Odine know about sorceresses, Odine learn from studying Adel. She no like to be studied, but I find ways to get information from her."

"Do you know where she came from?" Rinoa asked.

"No. I know nothing. She come to Esthar and make herself ruler," Odine said. "I make weapons for her, and I learn about sorceresses and magic from her. That is all I know."

"Umm…" Ellone said, stepping into Squall and Rinoa's view. "If you're trying to learn about Adel's past, I might be able to help you. I admit, I don't know much myself. But I can send you into her past. Maybe we can figure out something that way."

"Really?" Rinoa said, brightening. She clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. "I would really like that!"

Ellone smiled. "We can start now if you like. Although, we should probably go somewhere a bit more private," she said. "Follow me."

Ellone and Rinoa started to leave the lab. Rinoa stopped and looked at Squall. "Are you coming with?"

Squall shook his head. "Find your answers. I still have some questions I want to ask Dr. Odine."

Odine grumbled.

"Okay," Rinoa said. "I'll be back."

With that, she and Ellone stepped outside. The door slid shut behind them.

"Hurry with ze questions." Odine said. "Odine still have much work to be done."

Squall paused to think, making sure he wasn't forgetting about any important questions.

(We came here to learn about the sorceress in the cafeteria and Adel's past.)

(We already asked Odine about the first question, and Ellone and Rinoa are looking into the second.)

(Was there anything else?)

"Hey, doc," Laguna said, waving his hand. "Tell him about why you had Elle here in the first place."

(Oh, right.)

"Fine. Iz because of Lunatic Pandora," Odine said.

(Huh?)

The doctor shuffled over to a nearby computer and pushed a few buttons. Squall followed after him and looked at the monitor. A second later, a new crop of graphs and charts appeared. Squall couldn't decipher the numeric codes that accompanied the charts, but he could see that both charts were identical, rising and falling in perfect unison.

"This iz why I study Ellone again," Dr. Odine said, tapping on the screen. "Here iz problem."

Squall narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand. It looks like they're both the same."

"Yes, exactly," Odine said. "Identical charts. Problem iz, chart on right is Ellone's brain patterns, and chart on left is energy field from Lunatic Pandora."

(The same brain pattern.)

(Didn't Odine say that he made the Junction Machine Ellone by copying Ellone's brain patterns?)

(If the Lunatic Pandora can copy her patterns…)

"What does that mean?" Squall asked.

"That what Odine try to figure out!" Odine said. He jumped in the air in his fury. "But stupid SeeD comes in and first wreak sorceress experiment, and now Ellone experiment walk out of ze room. You ruin all Odine's experiments! Odine might as well quit! Become farmer in ze mountains! Raise goats!"

(He's a bit… temperamental.)

"Ellone will come back," Squall said, trying to calm the doctor. "But what's the significance of this?" Suddenly, he was struck by an idea. "Does the energy signature of the Lunatic Pandora have anything to do with the appearances of the sorceresses?"

"Of course it does!" Odine said. "New energy signature and sorceress both show up on ze same day! Exact same day!"

Squall crossed his arms and looked to the floor, completely lost in thought.

(Ellone's power is to link two periods in time.)

(If the Lunatic Pandora is producing identical brain waves to her, then it's possible that it also is linking two periods in time, perhaps drawing the time compression sorceresses here.)

(That's why they're coming to this time period instead of any other.)

"But why now?" Squall said. "What made the Lunatic Pandora start doing this?"

"No idea," Odine said. "Cannot study Lunatic Pandora up close. Only long-range readings from Esthar. Too many monsters in the plains to retrieve Lunatic Pandora."

Squall looked at the doctor. "What else can you tell me?"


	10. Chapter 10: First Battle

_**Chapter 10**_

_**First Battle**_

(Zell)

"This is the final mission briefing," Quistis said. "If anyone has any questions or concerns, this will be your last chance to voice them. Timber should be visible in the next hour, and all of you are expected to be at your assigned stations, ready for combat, fifteen minutes prior to landing. There are no excuses for being tardy or unprepared."

Quistis stood on the same stage where, only a few days prior, Headmaster Cid had announced SeeD's new direction for the future. The only difference was that now—tacked on the wall behind her—was a scale map of Timber and the surrounding area, large enough to be visible from the far end of the quad. The entire student body assembled on the floor, standing at attention in neat columns and rows. Cid and Edea sat on chairs behind Quistis, watching her as she spoke. Cid's normally genial, smiling face was stern, humorless.

Zell stood near the middle of the formation of students, his gloved hands held straight along the sides of his SeeD uniform. His eyes flicked from Quistis, to Cid and Edea, then back to Quistis. His energy screamed in his veins, making him feel as though he could jump from the quad all the way to Timber in a single leap.

(Almost time!)

"Our primary objective is to insert three SeeDs safely into the Timber TV station," Quistis said, "Where they will make contact with the members of the resistance and begin enacting the next phase of the operation from within the city. To accomplish this mission requires one of the biggest coordinated SeeD offenses in our history.

"After we make land outside of Timber," Quistis said, taking out a thin wooden pointer and gesturing on the map behind her, angling the tip of the pointer towards the eastern side of Timber, "We will deploy the first team, codenamed the 'Decoy Team.' The Decoy Team's objective is to attempt to gain access to Timber via their Eastern Gate. Intelligence from both the Timber resistance and our own sources report that the Eastern Gate is not heavily guarded, but is situated in a point where it is easy to reinforce if attacked. The Decoy Team will cause as much damage to the Galbadian Army as possible, hopefully drawing many troops and artillery in their direction. As you can expect, here is where the fighting will be hardest. To those of you assigned to the Decoy Team: take care of yourselves and each other, and remember your training.

"Once the Decoy Team is deployed, Garden will circle south around Timber to the western side, where we will deploy the second and third teams, codenamed the 'Contact Team' and the 'Support Team.' Using a train supplied by the resistance, both teams will infiltrate the city. Once they have reached a designated safe spot in the city, the two teams will separate, with the Contact Team heading on foot the rest of the way to the TV Station while the Support Team withdraws from Timber, hopefully fooling the Galbadians into thinking that they are in retreat. If it goes according to plan, the Galbadians will devote their energy to fighting the Decoy Team and chasing off the Support Team, completely unaware that the Contact Team has reached the TV Station.

"While this is going on, the fourth and final team, codenamed the 'Garden Team,' will remain at Garden and fend off any attacks the Galbadian's may send after us. After the first three teams have been deposited, Garden will circle south around Timber again, entering into the ocean to shake off any ground pursuit, before returning to the east side to collect the Decoy Team. Then Garden will make one pass—either to the north or the south depending on the conditions of the battle—to collect the Support Team as they flee by train westward out of the city. Once the Contact Team is in the TV Station and both the Support and Decoy Teams have been collected, Garden will escape into the ocean and await our next move."

Quistis pulled down her pointer and held it in both hands, facing the assembled student body. "The ultimate goal is to get the Contact Team successfully to their destination, while tricking the Galbadians into thinking we failed our mission. It is of the utmost importance that the Galbadians are not made aware of the Contact Team, so it is up to both the Support Team and Decoy Team to give convincing performances. Do not hold back."

She set down her pointer on the podium and concluded her speech. "Specifications for each stage of the operation are known by the individual Team Leaders. The Garden Team Leader is Nida, the Support Team Leader is Mireya, the Contact Team Leader is Xu, and I am the Decoy Team Leader. Speak to your Team Leader now if you have any further questions. Make whatever preparations you need, and be ready at your assigned location at 1545. That is all. Dismissed."

(Wait… Who's Mireya?)

While Zell sorted through his memories trying to figure out who Mireya was, Quistis stepped away from the podium. Nida, Xu, and a third girl that Zell assumed must have been Mireya broke away from the formation on the floor and joined Quistis on the stage. Cid and Edea rose from their seats and stood ready to answer any questions.

Once dismissed, most of the SeeDs and cadets filed out of the quad, heading to make their final preparations. A handful, mostly cadets in blue uniforms, approached the stage to speak with their respective team leaders. Zell didn't have any questions, but he stepped onto the stage anyway.

The longest two lines—still no more than a half dozen students each—formed in front of Quistis and the girl Zell assumed was Mireya. He took a moment to examine the unfamiliar girl from afar.

Mireya was quite possibly the most unremarkable girl Zell had ever seen. She had hair as black as her SeeD uniform, the tips of which brushed against her shoulders. Her face was pale, smooth, and commonplace, accessorized with a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She was a little shorter than most girls, but not by much, and she wore no jewelry or accessories. It was no wonder Zell didn't remember her; in truth he probably had seen her many times before, but had simply forgotten.

(Man, she's like the girl version of Nida, as far as being ordinary.)

"Ready for this?" Xu asked, approaching Zell from the side. He jumped a little, then laughed.

"Jeez! Spooked me," Zell said. "But yeah! I'm so ready for this."

He emphasized his point by punching his fist into the palm of his other hand.

"You know that we're working with Dax, right?" Xu asked. She crossed her arms and learned forward. The gesture reminded Zell of Quistis. "I trust there won't be any trouble between you two?"

(Dax? Why's that name familiar? Oh, right…)

"That guy I fought for my test," Zell said. He frowned in thought. "Why would there be trouble?"

Xu shrugged. "He's not the most gracious in defeat. Ever since you beat him, he's been rather vocal about his dislike of you."

Zell slumped his shoulders dramatically.

(Oh man, all I need is another Seifer in my life…)

"So why'd you put him on the Contact Team with us?" Zell asked. "Seems like you're askin' for trouble that way."

"Like I said when I proctored your test," Xu said. "He's one of our best fighters. And we need fighters for the Contact Team, because we don't make as much noise or draw as much attention as other weapon specialties. We can't be firing guns, casting magic, or anything like that when we're supposed to be quietly infiltrating the TV Station."

(Oh…)

"Guess that makes sense…" Zell said.

"Any questions about the details of our mission?" Xu asked. "Last chance to go over it with me."

For all the SeeDs, Zell included, the whole day had been nothing but relentless briefings again and again, going over the general mission, plus plenty of individual time with the Team Leaders to go over every possible scenario each team could face during the battle. Zell had never been a quick study, but even he felt oversaturated by the end of it.

"Nah, I think I got it," Zell said. From the corner of his eye, Zell noticed that the line for Mireya was shortening.

(I guess I can ask…)

"Not a question about the mission," Zell said. "But who's she?" He pointed at Mireya.

"Hmm? Oh, Mireya," Xu said, peering over at the girl. "She's one of our newest admins. She does… umm…" Xu paused a moment to think. "Residency Supervisor. Basically she's in charge of the dorms. She's not the most exciting person, but she does her work well and the students seem to respect her, which is why she's heading the Support Team."

"Gotcha."

"I want to say something to Q before I forget," Xu said. She nodded at Zell. "I'll see you at the front gate, okay?"

"See ya," Zell said, with a wave. Xu waved back and walked over to Quistis, taking a spot at the end of the line of students who were waiting to ask the Commander a question.

Meanwhile, the last student around Nida broke away from him and left the quad. Smiling with all his teeth, Nida bounced over to Zell, shaking with excitement.

"I'm head of the Garden Team!" Nida said, almost shouting into Zell's face. "It's so awesome! I've never been in charge of anything before! This is so cool!"

Zell smiled back, Nida's enthusiasm feeding into his own. "That's awesome, man! But hey, don't you feel left out? I mean, you gotta stay at Garden the whole time. Seems like a drag."

"Are you kidding?" Nida said. "I'm gonna have my hands full the whole mission. I gotta pilot the Garden, you know. Plus leading all the students on the Garden Team, plus making all the rendezvous points at the scheduled times. I'm the lynchpin of the operation! It's a big job."

"Heh, guess I never thought of it that way," Zell said. He scratched the back of his head. "You'll do great, man. The Garden's in good hands with you."

"It sure is!" Nida said. "I gotta go. See you, Zell!"

"Later!"

Jumping and skipping, Nida dashed out of the quad. Zell laughed to himself when he heard Nida start singing a SeeD rallying song as he ran.

(Nida's so pumped! Good for him!)

By this time, most of the cadets had already asked their questions, leaving the stage mostly empty. The only people left were the Team Leaders, Cid, Edea, and Ami, who was talking to Mireya. He went over to the two ladies and waited for them to finish their conversation, shifting on his feet and looking around. Mireya noticed him first, then Ami. Ami smiled broadly at Zell, and he reflexively responded in kind.

"Hey, Zell," Ami said.

"Hey," Zell said. He had a ton of things he wanted to say to her, but he was embarrassed to say anything with witnesses around. Just thinking about it made him blush a little. He coughed and rubbed his neck, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't that he was embarrassed by Ami, or ashamed of being seen with her, but somehow the idea of being in a relationship still felt awkward to him. It just seemed easier to keep everything in private.

Mireya turned to him. "You're on the Contact Team with Xu, correct?" she asked. Her voice was soft and even, every syllable pronounced precisely.

"Yup," Zell said. Focusing on answering her questions instead of thinking about the upcoming mission helped him settle his nerves.

"I look forward to working with you, then," Mireya said with a nod. "I've heard good things about your skills, and I'm interested in seeing you in combat."

Zell grinned, color flooding his cheeks. "Heh, what didya hear?"

Mireya's expression never changed. "I heard you bested Dax in one-on-one combat. I heard he never hit you once."

(That's not totally true…)

"Well, he did tackle me," Zell said, looking at the floor. "But he didn't really _hit_ me, no."

"Impressive, nonetheless," Mireya said. She turned to Ami. "If you have no further questions?"

"No, I'm good," Ami said. She bowed politely. "Thank you, Team Leader."

"Good bye, Zell, Ami," Mireya said. She nodded to the two of them, then left, heading down the stairs of the stage and to the exit. Zell watched her leave with mild curiosity.

(She seems nice.)

(Kinda boring though…)

Ami smiled at Zell. "You would not believe how nervous I am," she said. She held up her hand, flat, to demonstrate how much it was shaking. Zell stepped in close and stared at her quivering hand.

"That's nothin'," Zell said. "You'd be surprised how nervous Iwas before my Field Exam. Thought I was gonna have a heart attack on the boat ride over. So don't think you're the only one. I'm pretty sure everyone gets freaked out by Field Exams."

(Except Squall and Seifer. They didn't even seem to care.)

"Yeah, well, so you know what it feels like," Ami said. She pulled her hand back down to her side. "I mean, even if I survive the battle, even if I complete the mission, I might still fail the test. It's just layers and layers of stress, all on top of each other. So many things to focus on, so many things that can go wrong. Even if I win, I might lose! It's horrible!"

"Hey, you know what my trick is?" Zell said. Ami shook her head. "Simplify! That's the secret. I know it seems like there's a lot goin' on, but there isn't. SeeD is this big, well-oiled machine and we're all just little parts of it. As long as you do your part and stay focused, then everything will turn out okay! Leave all the worryin' to the big shots who are planning the mission. That's all ya need to do. Focus on the moment, baby!"

Zell—caught up in the moment—struck a dramatic pose, clenching his fists in excitement. He relaxed and gave Ami a thumbs-up.

"Hm. Makes sense," Ami said. She returned his thumbs-up.

"I've only seen two kinds of people fail the Exam," Zell said. "People who didn't remember their training, and people who didn't listen to orders. I know you know your training, and I know you'll listen. So you'll be fine."

"You'll watch out for me, right?" Ami said. She put her hands behind her back and ground the tip of her toe onto the stage. She looked up at him with her round eyes, trusting Zell implicitly. In that moment, she was so impossibly cute that Zell thought he'd collapse.

(Must… focus…)

"I-I'll be with you for the first half," Zell said, struggling to make his mouth work. "After that, Mireya's gonna look after you. You'll be fine, no worries."

Ami took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Yup. That's all it takes," Zell said. "Positive thinking!"

(1545.)

Zell hadn't lied to Ami. He believed wholeheartedly that remaining focused and thinking positively would see him through, not only this battle, but every battle in the future as well. But there were times when it took a great deal of positive thinking to balance the scales. This was one of those times.

Mentally, he went over his mission, step by step, once more. There were so many people involved, so many variables, so many things that could go wrong. He tried not to worry about them. He tried to simplify, like he had told Ami, but part of his mission required him to at least recognize possible threats before they arose. And as he was learning, it was difficult—if not impossible—to think about a problem without immediately worrying about it.

(Oh man.)

He stood with the Contact Team and the Support Team at Garden's front gate. For many years, the front gate had been a long exterior walkway leading outside Garden. However, once Garden became mobile, only the opening itself stayed attached to the rest of the school, leaving a massive, rectangular hole in the side of the building. Technicians at Fisherman's Horizon had installed a retractable metal door, sealing the hole shut from the elements. That door was currently closed, blocking Zell from seeing what was going on outside.

Zell, with the others, huddled beside the metal door, listening to the wind and the waves outside. They were still a few minutes from making land. Underneath his uniform he wore his civilian clothes. The extra layers, the crowded space, plus his growing nerves made sweat bead on his forehead. He swallowed, his dry mouth producing almost no saliva.

(Keep it cool. Simplify.)

Only three people comprised the Contact Team: Zell, Dax, and Xu. Xu stood with her back to the metal door, keeping her eye on the crowd. Dax cracked his knuckles and warmed up his muscles. In his SeeD uniform, his muscles were covered, but he was still taller and more intimidating than Zell.

"That fight with you and me?" Dax said quietly. "That was just a game. This is where the real action is. Think you can handle it?"

Zell looked at Dax, thinking back to Xu's comment, about how Dax had never had much real combat experience. He thought back to all he'd been through since joining SeeD. The crazy path his life had taken starting the day after his graduation and leading up to this moment.

(Man, if you knew what I've seen…)

Zell stifled a laugh, but little snorting breaths escaped through his nose.

Dax scoffed. "Yeah. Lotsa guys laugh when they're nervous. Then they cry when the fighting starts."

(Oh man, he _is_ just like Seifer.)

Zell sighed loudly.

(It's gonna be a looooong mission…)

"Both of you, be quiet," Xu said.

"Ma'am," the two SeeDs said.

Dax glared at Zell, not speaking aloud, but saying volumes with his derisive expression. Zell rolled his eyes and looked away.

(Whatever, dude.)

Zell glanced at the Support Team, which featured a mix of several dozen SeeDs and cadets. The cadets were all being graded on their performance, with their SeeD counterparts all watching and taking note of their behavior and actions. Those cadets who scored high enough would graduate to full SeeD membership at the end of the mission.

The Support Team wasn't as big as the Decoy Team—which was currently gathering in the parking lot on the other side of Garden—but it was large enough to trick Galbadia into thinking that they were the real objective. It was also enough to protect the Contact Team and ensure they infiltrated the city without being seen.

A few steps away, Zell could see Ami in the crowd. She held her weapon of choice—a long staff carved with spiral runes and arcane designs—tightly against her chest with both hands. She stared intensely at the metal wall in front of her, as if she could see other worlds beyond it. She didn't seem to notice Zell's gaze, or if she did, she ignored it. That was probably a good thing, because he knew that the Field Exam included a "Conduct" score, and she'd probably have points deducted for talking before the mission.

(Just focus, Ami.)

With three chimes, the intercom came on. Nida's voice, wavering a little with anxiety, came over the speakers.

"All right, teams," Nida said. "The continent is in sight. Ready on my mark."

The intercom chimed again, and shut off. Mireya stepped in front of the crowd, her back to the metal wall, and shouted above the din of the Garden's engines and the rush of the sea and air outside.

"Support Team, form ranks!" she yelled, her voice stern and commanding.

The members of the Support Team quickly filed into five long rows, standing one in front of the other. Mireya strode up and down the ranks, offering whispered advice and criticism to the SeeDs and cadets as she worked her way through the lines.

"Stay with me," Xu said to her team. "Don't worry about the Support Team. Move when I do, do what I tell you. And Zell, do not forget about your radio. Protect it at all costs."

Zell nodded confidently, but secretly he was relieved she'd reminded him about the radio. He'd all but forgotten about the little gray brick stuffed in the front pocket of his civilian pants.

(Can't lose this little guy.)

Shortly after SeeD became aware that Galbadia had invaded Balamb, Quistis ordered a small group to infiltrate Balamb and do reconnaissance. They'd verified Caraway's claims and returned with a bonus: a few Galbadian military radios, stolen from an unguarded vehicle near the front entrance. One such radio now sat in Zell's pocket; its twin waited on the bridge with Nida. The rest were disseminated through the Garden Team, to be used later in the mission.

The radio was a huge crux of the plan, allowing the Contact Team to communicate effectively with Garden. Without the radio, they would have to depend on sources within Timber to make contact, and that would be unreliable at best, dangerous at worst.

The intercom chimed and turned on again. Zell and the other students were confused, not expecting another report so soon.

(Huh?)

"Er…" Nida said over the speakers.

Over the intercom, they could hear a voice that sounded like the Headmaster, whispering something to Nida.

"Right," Nida said, responding to the voice. "Okay, guys. Galbadia has unexpectedly set up a, uh, blockade right in our path. We're umm… we're gonna blast through, so hold onto something. It's gonna get a bit rocky in a sec."

The intercom chimed and shut off. Mireya and Xu reacted immediately.

"Away from the gate and against the wall!" Mireya said.

"Hunker down and brace for impact," Xu said to everyone. "Don't move until ordered."

The Support Team broke ranks and backed away from the front gate, towards the center walkway ring of Garden. There, they squatted down, leaning their backs against the interior walls and the stone edges of the water fountains. The students got a bit disorganized in the shuffle, with inexperienced cadets bumping into each other in a flurry of panic, but Zell and Dax stayed right next to Xu, crouched and ready.

A moment later, Garden lurched as Nida slammed on the accelerator. The floor shifted under their feet. Zell adjusted his weight, leaning forward to keep his balance. A couple cadets tumbled over with cries of surprise.

"Brace yourselves!" Xu said a little too late, gripping the wall with her hands. Zell and Dax put their hands on the floor, like sprinters waiting for the starting gun.

Beyond the gate, the sounds of wind and water were joined with the faint popping of gunfire. At first, there was only a single line of bullets, tapping away in the distance as it fired at Garden. But moments later, several more guns joined the assault. As the Garden got closer, the bullets began finding their mark, ricocheting off the Garden's frame with metallic pings.

A trail of bullets ran across the front gate, bouncing off it with a startling _bang bang bang_. The more experienced SeeDs remained focused, while many of the young, inexperienced cadets yelped, their gasps echoing against the high metal wall of the front gate. Some cadets fidgeted anxiously. Others began to whisper amongst each other.

(They're losin' points for that.)

Zell stole a glance over at the others, scanning faces and looking for Ami. He found her near the middle of the pack, sitting on the ground with her staff across her lap. She had her eyes closed, breathing deeply, her chest inflating with each breath. Her eyes snapped open and met Zell's. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. She nodded almost imperceptibly, so as to not get points deducted for being distracted.

(That's how ya do it. Stay calm.)

With three chimes, the intercom turned back on. "—ONTACT! BRACE YOURSELVES!" Nida yelled into the speaker.

Before he'd even finished his warning, the Garden crashed with stunning impact, throwing everyone off their balance and flat onto the ground. A metallic screech resonated down the halls of the school as the exterior ring of the Garden tore through the hull of a Galbadian ship no one at the front gate could see. The shrieking sound stabbed at Zell's ears, forcing him to cover them with his hands.

The screeching soon relented, but the gunfire continued. Now it was no longer peppering the front, but clattering along the sides and rear of the Garden.

(Sounds like the worst hailstorm ever.)

The gunfire began to fade in the distance, the unwieldy Galbadian warships unable to keep pace with the speed and maneuverability of the Garden, especially as it moved into shallower water.

The intercom chimed again. Nida was panting as if he'd been running. "The barricade… I mean the blockade is clear. Don't see any other obstacles. Decoy Team, ready on my mark."

Mireya and Xu stood up, once again taking command.

"Support Team, form ranks!" Mireya yelled. The Support Team staggered to their feet and assembled in five perfect lines again. Xu, Zell, and Dax took their spots near the front gate, outside the rest of the formation. Zell could feel Dax's eyes boring into him, desperately trying to get Zell's attention, but Zell did not give him the satisfaction.

Instead, he turned and found Ami again, in line with the rest of the Support Team. He shrugged his shoulders confidently and smiled.

(Like nothing!)

She smiled back.

The Garden pushed upward as they made landfall. It felt like being on an elevator. Outside, Zell could hear the rush of water as Garden emerged from the sea like a movie monster. The Garden's thrusters worked against the earth to keep the Garden hovering up above the soil.

(Phase 1: Make landfall. Complete.)

He wished he could peer through the metal gate, to see Timber and what it looked like. Were there swarms of Galbadians, covering the city like blue ants? Were there only a few guards posted here and there? Was Timber burning, or damaged? All he knew was what he could hear and what he could feel in his feet. But he could only hear and feel the rumble of the Garden below and the rush of the wind outside.

(Suspense is killin' me.)

The intercom chimed again.

"Decoy Team on my mark…" Nida said. The Garden slowed to a stop, then lowered to the ground, touching down with a heavy thump. The floor shook, and Zell wavered in place, extending out his arms to keep his balance.

"Go! Decoy Team!" Nida said.

At the other end of the Garden, Zell knew, Quistis and the rest of the Decoy Team were rushing out to Timber. They were depending on the speed of Garden's vehicles—some armored and some not— to protect them and keep them ahead of the Galbadian army. Zell could hear their vehicles' engines outside as they sped across the field to engage with the enemy. Theirs was easily the most dangerous assignment in the operation, and Zell knew it was unlikely that all the members of the team would come back safely. He knew it, and tried not to worry about it.

Tried, and failed.

(Phase 2: Deploy Decoy Team. Complete.)

Less than a minute later, the last of the cars raced out of the parking lot and the Garden rose from the ground, driving forward again. Judging by the sounds outside, Galbadia's ground forces had caught up to Garden and the Decoy Team. The rumble of car engines and the popping of gunfire could be heard below Garden's thrusters. The Decoy Team would be trying its best to pull away as many soldiers from Garden as possible, but Zell could still hear the Garden taking hits as it arced south around Timber.

Soon, Garden descended into the ocean again, jerking suddenly as the bottom hit the resistance of the water. The Galbadian ground forces were unable to continue pursuit, and the sounds of their weapons faded in the distance.

After a couple of minutes, the intercom chimed again.

"Support and Contact Teams, on my mark," Nida said.

"Get ready to move!" Mireya said to her team. "Stay behind me!"

"Blend in with the crowd," Xu said to Dax and Zell, "But don't get in anyone's way. And stay with me. Don't get separated."

The Garden rose from the ocean once more. Zell waited, straining his ears to listen for the sounds of a Galbadian attack, but it seemed the G-Army had been caught off guard. Apparently, they weren't expecting Garden to circle around and hit them from the other side, and had arrogantly over-committed to attacking the Decoy Team.

(So far so good!)

The Garden slowed to a stop, then dropped to the ground. It hit the earth, hard. The heavy metal wall in front of Zell opened outward, connected to the floor by a giant hinge, and formed a ramp down to the grassy terrain. Sunlight poured in through the opening, blinding Zell for a moment before his eyes adjusted.

"Go! Support and Contact Teams!" Nida yelled through the intercom.

"MOVE!" Mireya yelled, running forward down the ramp, her sword raised in one hand like a banner, rallying the troops behind her. Xu, Zell, and Dax chased after her, with the rest of the Support Team moving down the long ramp as well, their footsteps clattering on the metal.

(Phase 3: Deploy Support and Contact Teams. Complete.)

Zell hit the fields running, a stampede of students racing before him, behind him, and alongside him. The Garden required an area void of trees in order to reach the ground, so Nida had found a clearing where Galbadian loggers had leveled a huge swath of land, reducing the lush greenery to mere stumps and brambles. The hot air smelled of sawdust and tree sap.

Zell vaulted over a stump, almost losing his footing on an exposed root on the other side, as he and the others sprinted north. Behind them, the Garden lifted off, spraying a cloud of dust and leaves and grass before turning south towards the ocean. All around the edges of the clearing were the verdant forests Timber was famous for. Curious, Zell glanced eastward as he ran, to see if the city itself was visible yet, but they were too far out to see it beyond the thick trees.

The SeeDs and cadets reached the tree line and broke apart, everyone finding their own path through the maze of pines and oaks, over the ferns and long grass. Zell swatted away branches, snapping them as he ran, clearing a hole for others to follow. He was dimly aware that Dax was behind him, and Xu was off to the side.

Galbadia, they knew, would have undoubtedly seen Garden approach. The fact that they didn't already have soldiers ready and waiting proved that second SeeD charge had surprised them. The G-Army had taken the bait and overcommitted to the other side of the city, leaving the western side exposed. But that error would soon be corrected, once Galbadia realized what was going on.

The group burst through the trees and emerged in another clearing. This one was not made by Galbadian clear-cutting operations, but by Timber's train tracks. Zell's feet hit the loose stones and gravel of a track junction, where a northbound route met with the east-west line that led into and out of the city. He stepped over the steel rails and stopped. He could feel sweat starting to form on his brow, but he wasn't even close to being tired.

(Phase 4: Reach rendezvous point.)

Zell looked around at the others, making sure that no one had gotten separated. In such a short sprint, it was unlikely that anyone had fallen behind, but it was important to be sure. Xu and Dax gathered around him, ensuring that the Contact Team stayed together. Mireya went through the cluster of SeeDs and cadets, doing a quick headcount. Zell scanned the crowd and found Ami near the middle, clutching her staff.

(She looks okay.)

"Where's the train?" a female voice asked.

At first, the only thing Zell noticed was that it was a cadet who said that, and he wondered if she would be docked points for speaking out of turn. Then he realized that she was right, the Timber train they were scheduled to meet at this junction was nowhere to be found. Zell and the others looked up the northbound rail line and down both east and west, but there was nothing. The tracks were empty, disappearing into the woods.

"Oh, man," Zell said.

"Stay calm," Xu said.

(Yeah, right!)

Despite Xu's calm demeanor, Zell knew that this was one of the worst possible scenarios the team could have faced. It wasn't a simple matter of the train being late. Quistis and the others had taken great pains to make sure that the Timber team they were scheduled to meet got out of the city well before the attack happened. The train was supposed to be sitting on the tracks, ready and waiting, hours before they arrived. The fact that it wasn't here proved that something somewhere had gone terribly wrong.

Things got worse when Zell heard engines rumbling beyond the trees.

(Galbadia!)

"Crap!" Zell said, the word slipping out of his mouth accidentally.

The G-Army had finally wised up to SeeD's diversion, and began sending troops out to confront the invaders. With Garden long gone and the train nowhere to be found, their only choice was to hunker down and battle it out with the Galbadians and wait for Nida to swing back around and collect them.

(The mission's over. We failed.)

During the planning stages of the mission, some of the other SeeDs had raised concerns about trusting too much in the Timber resistance. They had argued that everything should be done by SeeDs, to keep mistakes like this from happening. Those people who'd voiced those concerns were now vindicated, but Zell doubted they'd be happy about being right about this.

(Talk about a lose-lose situation…)

The first Galbadian army car raced into view in the distance, its tires kicking up gravel and dirt as it barreled down on the students. Behind it came another, and another, then half a dozen, and a dozen. They were still a long ways away, but they would be upon the students in less than a minute.

Still more were coming while Mireya and Xu issued orders.

"Spread out!" Mireya said. "Find cover and return fire!"

"Stay with me!" Xu said to Zell and Dax. "There might still be a way inside."

Zell hoped she was right, but he seriously doubted it. Without a Timber train to give them speed and power to break through the Galbadian lines, it was unlikely they find a way into the city, especially now that they were on the alert for SeeD.

(We gotta try anyway!)

The three members of the Contact Team leapt off the train tracks and back into the woods as the first pops of gunfire began echoing through the trees. The Support Team scattered about, their blue cadet uniforms and black SeeD uniforms only partially visible in the dense foliage. Those with guns for their weapon specialties got into kneeling positions behind large trees and returned fire at the Galbadian cars. Everyone else needed to depend on magic to retaliate.

"No earth magic!" Mireya yelled. "Don't damage the tracks! No fire either!"

Instead of stopping, Xu kept running deeper into the woods until the tracks were barely discernible, then she turned towards the Galbadian advance, running parallel to the tracks. Zell and Dax struggled to keep up, braches whipping at their faces, pine needles clawing their skin.

(Where's she going?)

The Contact Team got further and further away from the rendezvous point. The Galbadian cars were seconds away from them, soldiers leaning from the car windows, firing bullets down the tracks at the Support Team.

Up ahead, Zell saw a blue glow forming around Xu's hands. As the lead car sped past, she wheeled around and made a throwing motion, hurling a block of ice the size of Zell's entire body at the side of the car. Her timing was perfect, and the block of ice tore out of the forest and hit the car's engine block at full speed, spinning the car wildly before it rolled onto its side and skidded to a stop on its roof.

(Woah!)

"Nice!" Zell said.

"Down!" Xu said, dropping to the earth.

Xu's trick had taken out the lead car, but it also alerted the Galbadians of their position. Within seconds, the trees around them sprouted bullet holes, and green chunks of leaves and branches filled the air like mist. Zell yelped and dropped to the ground, feeling splintered wood stabbing at his arms, neck, and clothes.

Zell didn't dare look up with all the bullets piercing the air. He kept his face down, his hands laced behind his head to shield it from the debris. Although the members of the Contact Team were now effectively pinned down, Xu's flanking maneuver had forced the Galbadians to divide their fire, instead of concentrating it wholly on the Support Team.

(Glad she's on our side…)

Slowly, Zell recognized that the bullets being sent their way were unfocused, wild. He realized that that meant the Galbadians didn't actually know where they were, and were firing blindly into the woods.

He could barely open his eyes with all the fragments in the air, but he could hear G-Army cars skidding to a stop near the junction point, concentrating their fire on the students there. The combined gunfire in the forest was so loud he could feel the sound waves bursting through the air. His ears were ringing, his eyes were watering, but he refused to just stand by and do nothing.

He called up a spell in his hand, focusing on his clenched fist. He felt a buzzing in his fingers as the electricity took form. When the spell was ready, he braced himself and got into a kneeling position, searching for the nearest G-Army car. He saw a group of three near the rendezvous point, their soldiers spraying bullets wildly at the Support Team. He extended his arm and the lightning in his body leapt from his hand to the cars, blowing out their windows and sending them crashing into the woods. At least one soldier was thrown from his vehicle and fell limp to the ground.

(Take that!)

The Galbadians didn't allow him a chance to celebrate, focusing their fire on the source of the lightning. He yelped and dropped back down to his stomach, bullets piercing the air above his head.

(How long can we keep this up?)

He had no idea what the condition of the Support Team was, but he could hear G-Army cars still rumbling down the tracks, more and more every second. A nauseous feeling wormed in his stomach as he realized that they wouldn't be hold their position long enough for Nida to come get them. Nor were they likely to be able to get back to the clearing where he'd left them. Not only was the mission doomed, so too were all the students in the Contact and Support teams.

He breathed a curse into the ground, the grass brushing on his face.

Then, from the west, came the long, tinny horn of an oncoming train. Zell heard cheers of relief come from the Support Team, and he knew what it meant.

(The train's here!)

Xu crawled on her belly over to Zell and slapped him on the shoulder to make him pay attention. Still covering his head with his hands, he turned and looked at her. She was squinting, her shoulders hunched as explosions and magic spells and bullets lanced the sky above and around her.

"We gotta fall back!" Xu said. He could barely hear her over the sounds of battle. "Back to the junction!"

"How?" he asked.

"Protect spells!" she said. "You got any?"

"Yeah!" Zell said.

"Okay, hit us up," Xu said. "Then we're sprinting back, got it?"

Zell thought the idea was crazy, but he agreed anyway. Protect spells were notoriously bad at deflecting bullets and wore out quickly, hardly an idea solution to their predicament.

(Not like I got a better plan.)

He looked around and saw Dax behind huddled Xu. Zell gathered a protect spell in his hand, cast it on himself, called another for Xu, and cast one more on Dax. Three translucent blue discs formed around the group, buzzing and humming with energy, before making a popping sound and turning invisible. Though the shields were totally clear, Zell could still feel the energy of their magic tingling his skin, making his hairs stand on end.

"On three," Xu said to Zell and Dax. "One… two… three!"

Xu scrambled to her feet, sprinting into the cloud of debris and chaos. Zell shut his brain off, pushed aside his fear and doubt, and got to his feet, chasing after her. Dax was only a step behind him.

Now the Galbadians could see them clearly, and their gunfire focused on the sprinting trio. Zell dodged around trees as they burst into splinters, ducked under branches, feeling an occasional bullet hit his shield and deflect haphazardly into the woods. With each hit the magic faded, and there wasn't enough time to recast the spells.

(Focus!)

He ignored everything and kept running, pumping his feet and keeping his eyes on Xu's back. He could hear Dax's footsteps tearing through the undergrowth a step behind him. His shield buzzed weakly, barely throwing aside a bullet, and Zell knew the next direct hit would probably strike flesh.

(Go, go, go!)

Amid a storm of bullets, the three got back to the junction. The Timber train was a single long car, sitting parked in the middle of the intersection. It was dark brown, with a bear's jaws painted on the front, the tips of the teeth colored with blood. Shots ricocheted off the metal frame with pings and pops. All around the junction were fallen G-Soldiers, ruined G-Army cars—smoke pouring from their engines—and a layer of spent bullet casings almost as thick as the gravel on the tracks.

The side door of the train was open, with Mireya standing there, throwing lightning bolts ahead to keep the Galbadians at bay. She looked up and saw the Contact Team returning.

"Get in!" she yelled, waving with her hand. She hurled one more bolt of lightning, then ducked out of the doorway to allow them inside. Xu burst from the tree line and leapt into the train, crashing into the far wall. Zell came after her, exposed and naked to gunfire for a terrifying second, before diving into the train after her. His momentum carried his body into hers, and the pair slammed hard into the wall.

"OOF," they both hollered.

A moment later, Dax burst in, his muscled shoulder catching Zell in the spine—like being hit with a flying boulder—and hurling him into Xu a second time. All three collapsed to the floor in a pained, tangled heap of arms and legs.

(OW!)

Mireya reached over the three and slammed the door shut. She spun around and shouted to the conductor, "Drive!"

With a screech and a hiss, the engine began its work, lurching the armored train forward into the onslaught. Outside, the Galbadians desperately tried to stop it, but armed only with rifles, their ineffective attacks could only dent the frame and ruin the paint job. The train jerked as it plowed through a Galbadian car, but no serious damage was done.

Lying on the ground in a pile with Xu and Dax, Zell panted from pain and exertion. Shortly before, the mission had been a hopeless failure, and his lifespan could be measured in minutes. Now the mission was back on, and he and the others were still alive. He couldn't help but smile.

(Phase 5: Enter train.)

"Get up," Xu said sternly. She pushed Dax's leg off her shoulders and lifted herself upright. Zell rolled onto his stomach and bounced to his feet. His protect spell was already gone, but it had served him well. His skin under his uniform was an art gallery of cuts, scratches, and more bruises than he could even feel, but he had somehow escaped serious injury.

He looked down at Dax, smiling triumphantly for a moment, until his saw his companion's condition. A pool of wetness was forming on Dax's leg, in the middle of his thigh. Through his SeeD uniform, the blood looked black and sticky. There was a ragged hole in his pants, the size of a bullet.

(Oh no…)

Dax winced and grabbed at the wounded area with both hands, staunching the blood flow. He propped himself up into a sitting position, his back against the metal wall. There was _bang_ as the train plowed through another Galbadian car, the vibrations making Dax groan with pain.

"Damn it," he said through clenched teeth. "Took a hit just as I was comin' in. Bastards."

"Medic!" Xu yelled up the train.

Ami heard the call and jogged down the length of the car. She smiled at Zell, a quick flash, and he smiled back.

(She's okay!)

Ami squatted down next to Dax. She saw where the wound was and pointed her elaborately-carved staff the growing blood stain. Zell could see her face tighten with concentration as she summoned up her healing magic in her staff, green energy swirling around the weapon like a mist.

"Can you handle this?" Xu asked her. "No offense, but I'd prefer someone with more experience."

Ami didn't respond, focusing everything on the spell. The green mist coalesced into rivers of energy, circling the staff and flowing towards the tip, heading for Dax's wound.

"She's got it," Zell said to Xu with a smile.

The train jerked with another impact, bullets peppering all sides as it barreled down the tracks. Still, Ami didn't let her attention drop. The spell finished forming, then beamed out the tip of her staff and into Dax's leg, soaking into the wound like water.

At first, Zell thought the spell was ineffective, or too weak for Dax's grievous injury. The sticky black patch on his leg was still there, ugly and painful-looking. Then Zell remembered that a simple cure spell wasn't going to put Dax's spent blood back in his body, nor would it patch up the hole in his clothes.

Dax's teeth were still clenched, but he began to relax in waves. After a moment, he poked his fingers at the wound. He frowned with surprise.

"Not bad…" he said. He looked up at Ami, genuinely impressed. "Not bad."

She smiled, then went back up the train car to attend to others in need.

"Let me see," Xu said.

"It's fine," Dax said. He got to his feet—a great sign in itself—and brushed her off. "Really, she got it."

"I don't need to you act macho," Xu said. "I need you to ready to fight. Now let me see."

Dax grumbled and rolled up his pants leg. He, like Zell, was wearing his civilian clothes under his uniform, so he had to pull both layers high up his leg to expose the wound, but soon they could all see the circular pink scar where there had once been a gaping bullet hole.

Zell's jaw dropped in awe.

(If she doesn't graduate, then I'll eat my shoes.)

Xu nodded, allowing Dax to roll his pant legs down.

"Take off your uniforms," she said to Dax and Zell. "Get ready for the next phase."

Both of them nodded and began stripping off their clothes. Obviously, the mission would be a failure if Galbadia spotted three uniformed SeeDs wandering through the city. That's why everyone on the Contact Team wore their civilian clothes underneath their uniforms.

In a couple rapid motions, Zell jumped out of his pants and pulled off his shirt, revealing his regular blue shorts and black shirt beneath. He folded up his clothes and set them aside on the floor. Hopefully someone from the Support Team would collect them and bring them back to Garden, but if they didn't, Zell could be issued another set. Xu undressed quickly as well. Beneath her uniform she wore a pink shirt so faded it was almost white, and a denim skirt, ragged at the hems from age.

Dax was wearing a tight, white bodybuilder's t-shirt, proudly showing off his muscular torso, and stretch pants. But now his civilian pants were stained with fresh blood with a ragged hole torn in the middle. He frowned at his ruined pants. Without a word, he reached down and ripped off both legs of his pants and threw them aside.

"Guess I'm wearin' shorts now," Dax said. He sighed. "I always liked those pants..."

Dax's legs were just as obscenely muscled as his upper body. He was like a living anatomy lesson, each individual muscle perfectly defined. Zell felt positively tiny by comparison with his thin, swimmer's physique.

(Maybe I should lift more weights?)

Xu pushed forward through the train, moving between the members of the Support Team, heading towards the front. Zell and Dax followed, glancing around at the state of affairs.

Zell didn't know how many people were in the Support Team, but it appeared that everyone was inside the train and alive. A few wounded were still being treated by medics—Ami being one of the healers—but everyone seemed okay.

(Wonder if Ami would like it if I worked out more…)

He imagined himself Dax's size, with Ami wrapping her arms around his massive biceps and gasping with delight.

(Nah, it'd be weird.)

The inside walls of the train were formed of windowless metal. Zell saw the Timber team—no more than four or five at the most—spaced around the train. They wore regular civilian clothes, but each had a brown bandanna tied somewhere on their personage. They ignored the SeeDs, listening to the sounds of battle fade away as the train sped away from the Galbadian pursuers. Zell assumed that they were somewhere in the city by now, but "where" was a question he couldn't answer.

He rejoined Xu at the front of the train. The conductor stood before a wall of levers, gears, and monitors. There were no windows, no obvious weaknesses in the train's armor. The conductor had to navigate entirely based on his machines. An LED readout plotted their course as a blue line amidst a field of green lines that—Zell guessed—indicated all the railways in the city. Timber's primary mode of transportation was by rail, and hundreds of tracks laced the city.

"How long before the drop off point?" Xu asked.

"One, two minutes tops," the conductor said. He turned to her. "Hey, sorry about the late arrival. Galbadia sent a patrol down the tracks and we had to circle around and come back to avoid them. We thought we'd get back in time but… well…"

"You got here," Xu said. "That's all that matters."

The conductor nodded and returned to his screens. Xu noticed Zell standing behind her and she gestured at his pocket.

"How's your radio?" she asked.

"Oh, right," Zell said, once again having completely forgotten its existence. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It appeared to be undamaged and when he turned it on and cranked up the volume, he could hear a steady hiss of static from the speaker.

"Good," Xu said. "We'll be moving in a minute. Be ready on my mark."

Zell nodded. "Gotcha." He shut the radio off and stuffed it back into his pocket. The trio worked their way to the back of the train and to the door. To pass the time, Zell went over the next step in his head.

Once inside the city, the train would turn and head down smaller, less-populated tracks, avoiding Galbadian patrols and pursuit until it came to a spot where tracks formed an S-curve. The nearby buildings blocked the view of the tracks in this section, making it an ideal spot for a secret drop off.

The train would slow here, allowing the Contact Team to exit the train. The train would then continue on with the charade, drawing Galbadians towards it and away from the Contact Team. After another battle, the students would pretend to be overwhelmed by the soldiers, then retreat out of the city and rejoin with Garden. But the exact details of that stage were known only to the Support Team, not Zell.

Zell wondered to himself why all the secrecy and complicated maneuvers were necessary, but didn't let his wondering turn into doubting. Quistis, Xu, and the Headmaster had come up with this plan, so it was obviously the best course of action available.

(Those guys are the planners. I just punch stuff.)

"Almost to the drop off point," the conductor called. He turned around. "You ready?"

Xu nodded.

"All right," the conductor said. "I ain't gonna stop all the way. Just slow enough to keep you from breakin' a leg when you hit the ground."

"Understood," Xu said.

"Hang on," the conductor said. He read his screens, watching the lines on the screen move back and forth. The train swayed on the tracks as he rounded a sharp bend, making everyone on board wobble. Zell clutched at the wall to steady himself. The conductor yanked a lever and the brakes squealed. He pushed a buttong that popped open the door. Air rushed in through the opening, making Zell squint.

"Go!" Xu said, pushing on Zell's back. He leapt from the train, which was going at twice his running speed. The blue bricks of the city street rushed up to meet him. He hit the ground feet first, then tucked his head down and rolled along the ground, keeping his arms and legs tight to his body until he tumbled to a stop.

Dizzy, but unharmed, Zell scrambled to his feet as Xu and Dax leapt off the train a moment later. They both rolled to a stop and stood up. Xu motioned for the other two to follow her as she rushed down a nearby stairwell leading to a door covered in flaking red paint. As Zell followed down the steps, he noticed a sign above the door: neon pink words advertising the establishment as "The Slippery Geezard."

(Some name.)

The three huddled in the doorway, just out of sight, and tried to act casual. They waited and listened for the sounds of Galbadian pursuit, but only the sounds of the distant battle on the far side of town reached them.

"Guess we lost 'em," Zell said. Xu nodded.

(Phase 6: Infiltrate the city, undetected. Complete.)

"Stay behind me," Xu said. She jogged up the steps and looked around, Dax and Zell right behind her. The street was empty, aside from a few parked cars. The crowded buildings formed a natural wall that prevented them from seeing—or being seen from—any distance greater than a block. Acting calm, but still hurrying, Xu walked down the road. The two SeeDs followed.

Timber's layout didn't seem to make any sense to Zell. Some roads were built for car traffic, some only for trains, and there were a great many walkways extending above the streets that only could support pedestrians. Xu moved quickly down the streets, through alleyways, up and down stairs, and across train tracks. Zell had been required to memorize the path from the drop off point to the TV Station, but after a few twists and turns, he was completely lost, and thankful that Xu was much better at memorizing directions than he was.

(Glad I'm not in charge.)

They emerged from an alleyway into a major road, with a trolley rolling down a set of tracks that divided the street in half lengthwise. The trolley was empty, everyone in the city hunkering down as the battle raged outside.

Down another street, they came perilously close to a Galbadian barricade, three G-Army cars parked the block access down a road. Several soldiers armed with both swords and rifles stood watch. For a second, Zell froze in fear, wondering if there was going to be a fight, but the G-Soldiers didn't pay much attention to the trio. Xu kept her calm and headed down another street, and Zell and Dax continued to follow.

(Everything's working perfectly.)

Eventually they found themselves in a long, straight alleyway with the TV Station looming at the end. It squatted among the smaller buildings around it, big and blue, with antennas and a broadcasting dish emerging from the top.

Xu hunkered down near a dumpster, indicating with her hand that Dax and Zell should do so also. Xu peered above the dumpster, looking down the alley.

"Do you guys see any patrols?" she asked.

Zell and Dax looked around opposite sides of the dumpster, eyeing down the alley. He could only see a sliver of the TV Station through the buildings, but what he could see was totally empty. It was a clear shot all the way to the end.

(Okay… this seems a little too easy.)

Zell shook his head at Xu. "Nothing," he said.

"Yeah, it's empty," Dax said.

Xu sighed and kept watching. "This is weird. There's supposed to be Galbadian blockades all around the building. So… where are they?"

Zell shrugged. "Maybe they went off to fight somewhere?"

"And leave the sorceress unguarded?" Xu said. "If the G-Army was that dumb, Timber would have liberated itself years ago."

In Zell's experience, the average G-Army soldier was under-educated, malnourished, and only somewhat loyal to the government. He wouldn't go so far as to call them dumb, but he could imagine them foolishly abandoning the sorceress to go fight elsewhere in the city. Nothing they did really surprised him.

"Might be a trap," Dax said.

"That's what I'm thinking," Xu said.

Zell scrunched up his face in thought. The idea of the Galbadians laying an elaborate trap rather than just canvassing the area with soldiers seemed wrong. Whenever the G-Army saw a problem, they threw troops at it. If that didn't work, they threw more troops in. Their answer to everything was "more and bigger."

"I dunno," Zell said. "Maybe we just surprised 'em. They've been pretty dumb so far."

Xu frowned and shook her head. "I don't trust this."

Zell cracked his knuckles and thought through this stage of the mission. From here, they were supposed to use Zell's radio to transmit a coded phrase onto the airwaves. Once they got the message, the Timber sorceress was supposed to provide a distraction to allow the SeeDs to sneak in. When the coast was clear, she'd turn on a beacon on top of the TV station to signal that they were ready.

Zell looked to the roof of the building and saw a blinking blue light emerging from one of the antennas.

"Hey, is that the all-clear signal?" he said, pointing at the flashing blue light.

Xu peered over the dumpster. "Huh… so it is."

"So that means it's clear, right?" Zell asked.

Xu hesitated. "Okay, fine. Move out."

The three emerged from behind the dumpster and moved down the alleyway at a cautious trot. They scanned down the alley, up at the windows of the buildings at either side, along the rooftops. At any moment, Zell expected a flash of blue uniforms, or a crackle of gunfire, but there was nothing.

They reached the end of the alleyway, where a small walkway encircled the building. Xu glanced left and right, looking for Galbadians, but seeing none. One of the windows on the first floor was open, and Xu took her chances and sprinted for it, diving through and disappearing inside the building.

Zell gave her a moment to clear away from the window, then ran in after her. He leapt headfirst through the window, tucking his arms and legs like he was diving into a pool. Wind rushed over his body when he cleared through the opening, and he rolled forward, somersaulting to a stop, then rolling out of the way as Dax hurtled through the window. Dax hit the ground with surprising grace, smoothly landing in a crouch.

(Phase 7: Enter the TV Station. Complete.)

"Upstairs, away from the windows," Xu said. They were in a blank hallway with a white brick interior. Zell looked around and saw a staircase a few steps behind him. With Xu and Dax right behind him, he dashed down the hall and up the metal steps to the second floor.

The second floor was white-brick like the first, but the walls were covered in old, dusty corkboard, with decades-old paper memos tacked on. A few doors closed spotted the hallway, with small brass plaques outside each, describing what was behind each door.

From around the corner came a guy no older than Zell, wearing ragged shorts and a ripped t-shirt. He had curly orange hair held up by a stained red bandanna. His eyes were staggeringly green, and his pale face was covered in freckles. He smiled extended a hand for a shake.

"I'm Tavin," he said. "And welcome to ground zero of the Timber Resistance."

The three members of the Contact Team took turns shaking his hand. Xu turned to Zell.

"Call it in," she said. "We made it inside."

Zell nodded and pulled his radio out of his pocket. He spun it around and turned it on, listening to the static. He dialed it in to the proper frequency and a wave of voices spilled out of the device. Part of the Garden Team's objective was to use Garden's other radios to fill this frequency with useless chatter for the duration of the mission. Doing so helped disguise the actual code words and phrases that SeeD was using to communicate. Sports scores, passages read from books, and nonsense filled the frequency.

"Where's all the guards?" Dax asked. "We just walked in here. It was too easy."

Tavin grinned. "Eh, you like that? Ciel decided she didn't like being watched all the time, so she started takin' potshots at the guards. She's got some pretty impressive range with her lightning, lemme tell you. Anyway, the guards soon wised up, and they keep their distance now. Anytime she sees a G-Soldier, she blasts 'em."

"You could have told us that," Xu said. "We were worried about a trap."

Tavin shrugged apologetically, "Sorry. But we didn't want you to think the coast was clear and then be surprised if a patrol wandered by."

(Makes sense…)

"I supposed you'll be wantin' to talk to the boss," Tavin said. Xu nodded. "I'll get her. One sec."

With a few muttered apologies, Tavin stepped past the SeeDs and headed up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

Zell remembered the radio, still spitting out voices in his face. He took a moment to remember what the code phrase was, then brought the radio to his mouth and pushed the "TALK" button.

"The show's starting," he said. He released the button. He held his breath, waiting for a reply from Nida.

There were a couple of different possible responses, depending on if the Garden was damaged, if the secrecy of the mission had been compromised, or if something else had gone wrong. Of course, the worst situation was if they didn't receive a response at all. That meant that something horrible had happened to the Garden, leaving them unable to answer at all.

A few seconds later, Nida's voice crackled over the speaker. "Save me a seat," he said.

The three exhaled in relief.

(It worked! The mission was a success!)

Zell tucked the radio into his pocket, unable to hold back and excited, "BOOYA!"

"Settle down," Xu said. "The mission's only just begun."

It was then that Zell noticed a change in the air. It didn't grow warmer or colder. He didn't hear a noise, or feel any vibrations. None of his normal physical senses were responding to anything unusual. But there was a definite change, a feeling of a distinct presence. He felt as if he was being watched from all sides at once.

Paranoid, he glanced over his shoulder, looking all around, but there was no one there.

A second later, Tavin descended the steps, followed closely by a short, blonde woman in a red bandanna. Zell recognized her from the Timber video. The only thing that surprised him was her height: she was a full head shorter than he was. But she was lean, toned, and her bare arms had numerous deep scratches.

Tavin and the girl stopped in front of the SeeD team. The feeling in the air, the intangible power that was indescribable but no less real, intensified as she drew nearer.

"You're the SeeDs?" she asked, crossing her arms.

(Phase 8: Make contact with the sorceress. Complete.)


	11. Chapter 11: Like Old Times

_**Chapter 11**_

_**Like Old Times**_

(Irvine)

The escort car brought the Headmaster, Irvine, and Selphie up a long steel ramp and into what used to be Galbadia Garden's front gate area. The row of turnstiles at the front of the Garden had been pulled out to allow room for a makeshift garage, where a handful of military vehicles were parked closely together. The driver pulled the car into a vacant spot, and the passengers all disembarked.

Behind them, the steel ramp leading into the Garden withdrew, and a metal shield closed the entryway as the Garden lifted off from the ground and rotated, steering itself back towards Deling City.

(No goin' back now.)

Martine, flanked on either side by armed G-soldiers, led the group to the Garden's center. Like Balamb Garden, the heart of G-Garden was a massive circular dome where all the major hallways intersected. But instead of being built around a central elevator like in Balamb, G-Garden's core was a flat, open quad area with a raised platform in the middle, ringed by ferns and other plants. In the middle of the platform, Galbadia Garden's sigil blazed proudly, illuminated by a decorative pillar of yellow light that came down from the ceiling. Four hallways extended in each cardinal direction from the central area, and a second-floor walkway encircled the upper level.

Martine stopped just before the central platform and turned to face Irvine and Selphie. Irvine unconsciously gripped the handle of his shotgun a little tighter, his finger reaching for the trigger. If Martine was planning a trap, this might be a good time for him to spring it, with his guards nearby.

Perhaps sensing the unease radiating from his guests, Martine glanced at the nearby G-soldiers and waved them off. They saluted crisply, then scattered throughout the Garden, leaving Martine and his guests relatively alone. A handful of students wearing G-Garden's black uniforms walked across the quad, heading between the classrooms and the dorms, but no one paid the three any notice.

"As you can see," Martine said, gesturing around him, "Nothing much has changed here. We've managed to return our Garden to the way it was before the sorceress took over. Classes have resumed, order is restored, and things are normal again. Everything should be the way as it was when you left it, Kinneas."

"That's good," Irvine said.

Though his allegiances had changed and Irvine had battled many Galbadians in the weeks since he left G-Garden, part of him still felt an attachment to the school. He'd spent much of his life in the place and—for better or for worse—it was what he considered to be home for many years. The halls were intimately familiar, as were the atmosphere, the lighting, the mood. He could close his eyes and envision every hallway, every classroom, down to the smallest details.

But fate had pulled the course of his destiny away from Galbadia Garden, and now, despite his history, he felt strangely alien at the school. Everything he knew about the Garden was in the past now. It _was_ home. He _once_ lived here.

(This isn't home anymore.)

"We should arrive in Deling City tomorrow," Martine said. "Until then, you are free to roam the Garden as you please. You can keep your weapons, provided you follow the school guidelines concerning them. Try not to disturb any lectures or training sessions that are taking place. If you have any questions, I'll be in my office. From there, I will contact General Caraway and let him know we're coming. I should be able to convince him to delay the attack until our arrival. I'll also have some of our students prepare one of the guest dorms for you tonight. I trust you still remember where the guest dorms are, Kinneas?"

Irvine smirked. "It hasn't been that long, Headmaster," he said.

"No. No it hasn't," Martine said. "You two can have dorm 20A. It has a bunk bed and a personal bathroom. Good day to you both."

Excitement replaced Irvine's worries, once he knew he'd be spending the night in the same room as Selphie. Granted, they wouldn't technically be sharing the same bed, but it was better than the arrangement they had at Balamb and Trabia.

And a personal bathroom as well! All the personal bathrooms came equipped with shower stalls, and Selphie would definitely be anxious to wash off days and days of Trabian dirt off her body. And maybe, if he played his cards right, she'd want a special shower buddy to help her with those hard to reach areas.

Irvine had to take a deep breath to calm himself.

(Lookin' forward to tonight.)

The Headmaster turned to leave, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering something. "Before I go talk to General Caraway," he said, "It would be best if I had something to tell him. You don't need to tell me the whole story of how you defeated the sorceress, but I need something to convince the General that it is worth his time to meet with you."

Irvine blinked out of his fantasies and focused. He'd expected Martine to ask questions like this, so he'd spent his brief time in the car thinking up a simple cover story to keep the Headmaster satisfied.

"Sure," Irvine said. "Ask away."

"What did you do with the body?" Martine asked. "After you killed the Sorceress Edea. How was she disposed of?"

(Crap.)

He hadn't thought that far ahead. But he knew that any hesitation would be devastating, so he went with a lie that seemed probable and required no evidence.

"Overboard," Irvine said quickly. "Tossed her into the ocean. _Splash_."

He kept his tone light, the hint of a smile playing off the edge of his lips. Being confident to the point of arrogance was so easy for him, he barely even had to think about it. His only concern was that Selphie might give something away, but thankfully she was silent, and the Headmaster ignored her.

"Is that everything?" Martine asked, staring intently into Irvine's eyes. "You're completely sure of that? You're not… hiding anything?"

Irvine had to suppress a smile. He was familiar with this old mind trick: a common favorite of parents, teachers, and other people in positions of power over kids.

(Pretend to know more than you actually do, to get a kid to spill his guts.)

(I ain't fallin' for it.)

"Yyyup," Irvine said smoothly. "And anyway, we're saving the best bits for the General. If we told you everything now, then what's to keep you from goin' back on our deal?"

"You know I'm a man of my word, Kinneas," Martine said.

"Still… no sense bein' careless."

Martine nodded. "If you insist. It's a shame, anyway. I would have liked to see the sorceress' body. It… it would set my mind at ease, knowing that she isn't going to come back and try to steal my Garden from me a second time." Martine took a deep breath and let it out.

"Speakin' of that," Irvine said. He was desperate to change the subject off the sorceress, to keep from having to think up more lies. Experience taught him that people loved nothing more than to talk about themselves, so he asked, "How'd you get back here? Last we saw, you were mopin' around in Fisherman's Horizon."

Martine happily answered Irvine's question. "And that's where I remained for quite some time," he said. "After the two Gardens battled, G-Garden fled into the ocean, for fear of retaliation from Balamb or the sorceress. Mind you, I don't know any of this personally; I only know what the students told me after the fact."

He continued, "Anyway, once they felt confident that no one was in pursuit, the students headed back to the Galbadian continent, lying low in the unpopulated desert regions and sending scouts to Deling City. Eventually, they discovered that Balamb Garden was docked at Fisherman's Horizon. They sent a couple scouts to FH to spy on SeeD and learn the fate of the sorceress. And, in the process, they found me 'moping around,' as you put it. They informed me of all that transpired, and when we were sure that the sorceress was dead—or at least inactive—I returned here and resumed my role as Headmaster. And that, really, is everything there is to tell."

"Huh, okay," Irvine said.

(Seems legit.)

"And speaking of my role as Headmaster," Martine said, "I should get back to work. I will be in my office if you need me. Good day."

Martine nodded to the two and departed, crossing the quad and disappearing into the hallway on the other side. Irvine watched him go, the tension of Martine's presence fading away with every step he took.

(Alone at last.)

Although he and Selphie were in a school full of students and instructors, this was still the closest the two had gotten to a private moment since leaving Balamb. Furthermore, this was also the first time he'd share a bunk with Selphie since… since ever, actually. If he couldn't make something happen tonight, then he would be embarrassed to call himself a man.

Irvine turned to Selphie and grinned. "So, is there anything you wanna do?"

"Ride a dragon into battle," Selphie said. "But only if it breathes fire. I don't wanna wimp dragon that can't even breathe liquid flame. Cause, I mean, what's the point, right?"

Irvine frowned. "… I meant here, at G-Garden."

"I know."

(Sometimes, I just have no idea what to say…)

"You know, it ain't really so bad here," Irvine said, trying not to get hung up on Selphie's answer. "It seems stuffy and formal, but there's a lot you can do, if you know where to look."

Selphie brightened. "Like dragons?"

"No, not dragons. But there are… um…"

Then he stopped. He looked blankly into the quad and realized—with shock and terror—that there was absolutely nothing he could do with Selphie, and that he'd made a terrible miscalculation by ever letting her think there was.

Yes, it was true that he'd had a lot of fun in G-Garden when he was a student. But for various reasons, he didn't want to involve Selphie in any of his former hobbies. He obviously wasn't going to take her around to hit on girls. And he wasn't going to meet up with his old friends and cause some havoc—not because he thought Selphie would disapprove of havoc, but because he definitely didn't want Selphie meeting his old friends.

(Not sure I really want to meet them again either.)

And a lot of the best stuff—the good date spots and all the great events—were in Deling City, an ocean away. Back when G-Garden was still on the continent and connected via a direct train route to the capital, he'd thought nothing of popping over to the city to catch some shows, do some shopping, and just hang out. But now they were in the middle of nowhere, and he had no idea what to do with Selphie.

(Well… damn.)

"There's the uh…" Irvine said.

(The what? The classrooms? The workout area? The offices?)

"The uh…" he said.

(The auditorium? What?)

"Theeeeee?" Selphie said.

"Hold on, I'll think of something," Irvine said. He rubbed his chin dramatically with his free hand. "It's just, you know, there's _so many_ options here it's hard to pick only one."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the problem," Selphie said, deadpan. "Military school is just _too_ exciting."

"You don't know the half of it!" Irvine said.

(She actually doesn't know the half of it.)

(No one can go wild like a bunch of angry, repressed, sexually frustrated teenagers.)

But he wasn't going to tell her any of those kinds of stories. Not yet, anyway.

"… You like basketball?" he finally said, coming up with at least one fun thing to do in G-Garden. He remembered the ruins of a basketball court in Trabia, so he knew she had to be at least somewhat familiar with the game.

"Sure!" Selphie said. "Where's the court?"

"C'mon, I'll show you," Irvine said.

They crossed the central platform, heading to the far side of the school. All around, students were marching across the quad, or stepping quickly along the upper walkway. Irvine had forgotten how rushed everyone was in Galbadia. Students hustled from class to class at a brisk walk so rapid it was almost a jog. There was no chatter in the halls, or any noise at all. If it didn't directly contribute to learning or scheduled in a student's day planner, it wasn't allowed in G-Garden. Irvine then remembered that everything fun he'd ever done at the Garden was against one or more regulations.

Even as only a guest of the school, Irvine began to feel the slow, crushing weight of the school's fanatic devotion to discipline settling down on him like fog in the air.

(Man, I can't wait to leave.)

"Do you think Martine is gonna keep his word?" Selphie asked as they walked to the other end of the quad.

"I wouldn't've here come if I thought he wasn't," Irvine said. He rested his shotgun on his shoulder, relaxed. "And I've been thinking about everything and you know, Martine has a point. Most of the nasty stuff with Galbadia—the real nasty stuff—was because of Ultimecia. Martine didn't sic G-Garden on Balamb, or put out a manhunt on Ellone, or… you know."

He coughed. He had almost said, "ordered a missile strike on Balamb and Trabia," but he managed to catch himself in time.

"Martine's a hardass," Irvine went on, "But I've never really had any problems with him. If he says we're just guests, then we're just guests. And if he gives us his word, he'll keep it. Nothin' to worry about."

"I dunno," Selphie said. "I don't like it here. It's creepy. Gives off a 'serial killer' vibe."

"You get used to it," Irvine said.

"I don't wanna get used to it," Selphie said.

He thought back to all the experiences Selphie had with G-Garden and with Galbadia in general. From her perspective, they'd never been anything other than the enemy, sending soldiers, machines, and missiles after her. He knew there was more to the Garden than just Ultimecia's reign of terror, but there was no way he could change Selphie's mind with mere words.

They passed by other students in the hall—dressed in their uniforms—as well as a handful of G-Soldiers marching around with their swords strapped to their hips. Irvine ignored them all, hoping he wouldn't bump into anyone he knew. His old friends and his old reputation had to be set aside if he was going to have any chance of convincing Selphie of the sincerity of his feelings toward her.

At last they emerged into the G-Garden field house, as the bright sun shone down through a massive skylight, heating the faded red floor. Unlike Balamb's training center, which was a paddock full of monsters, Galbadia's field house was more or less a gymnasium. Clay tennis courts and basketball courts were divided by high chain-link fences. A running track with lanes painted on it began and ended in the field house, encircling the entire Garden. A few students in red exercise uniforms and yellow sweatbands huffed and gasped as they ran laps.

Irvine grabbed Selphie's hand and made his way to the nearest basketball court. He laid his hand on the metal clasp to open the door when a deep, masculine voice bellowed from behind him, making him freeze in place.

"Get in uniform, or get out of my field house!" the voice shouted.

Irvine spun around and saw one of the well-muscled School Discipline Instructors marching towards him. The SDI, like all the others of his kind, was dressed in a tight-fitting black shirt and gray slacks, with a black baseball cap and a whistle around his neck. The SDI's of G-Garden served the dual purpose of being Physical Education teachers while also enforcing the school rules—which they did by using more Physical Education.

(Their answer to every question is "more pushups.")

"We're not students," Irvine said. "We're guests of the Headmaster."

The SDI marched up to Irvine, pressing his face inches away from Irvine's, to the point where the brims of their hats bumped into each other. The SDI stank of sweat, and his breath was sour.

"If you ain't students then get the hell out!" the SDI said. "The field house is for students only! It's not your damn playground! Take your ditzy girlfriend and scram!"

Selphie's jaw popped open and she pushed her way in between Irvine and the SDI.

"Ditzy?!" Selphie said. "I'll show you ditzy!"

She grabbed her nunchaku in both hands and spun them quickly, ending in a strong battle stance.

(No! Bad idea!)

"Little girl," the SDI said slowly. "You best be runnin' along now before you hurt yourself."

Thinking quickly, Irvine pushed between the SDI and Selphie, pointing over the Instructor's shoulder towards the track. On the track, a pair of students were walking, clutching their sides and gasping for air.

"You got some slackers behind you," Irvine said.

The SDI spun around. His eyes instinctively honed in on the presence of insufficient work ethic, and he tapped into the infinite well of pure hatred that all SDI's seemed to possess. Summoning a voice so loud it could almost rattle the fences, he hollered, "_THE DORMS ARE FOR RESTIN', THE TRACK IS FOR RUNNIN'! NOW RUN!" _

The two students on the track nearly fell over in surprise, then starting running again. Irvine took the opportunity and grabbed Selphie's shoulder, pulling her out of the field house and back into the hall. Thankfully, the SDI let them go and returned to whatever dark hole he'd crawled out of.

"Aww…" Selphie said, looking back towards the field house. "I coulda taken him."

"We're not here to pick fights with the SDI's," Irvine said.

"The who's?" she asked.

"School Discipline Instructors," he said.

"Ah."

He stopped in the hallway when they were a good distance away from the field house. A cluster of students in identical exercise uniforms marched out of a nearby hallway, bound for the field house. Yet another SDI led the group, shouting orders to the students.

As Irvine paused to think of another place to take Selphie, he realized that when the SDI had called Selphie his "ditzy girlfriend," she'd only taken offense to the "ditzy" part, not the "girlfriend" part. He took it as a good sign for the future.

(Definitely lookin' forward to tonight.)

"We can still check out the hockey rink," Irvine said. He shrugged. "If you're interested."

"Sure!" Selphie said, raising her hands and bouncing on her feet. Irvine snatched up her hand once again and tugged her through the drab gray halls, past the identically dressed students, back across the quad, and down another hallway.

"I'm lost," Selphie said. "Every hallway looks the same."

There were no signs or markers indicating which of the blue doors in the hallway led to the hockey rink. It had taken Irvine years to remember which doors led where, and thankfully, his memory did not fail him. He stepped in front of a seemingly random door, and it slid open automatically when it sensed him. A breath of cool air greeted him, and he brought Selphie into the hockey rink.

As usual, the small indoor stadium was mostly empty. Hockey practice was usually held in the mornings, and games were at night, but the arena was open to free skating during the daytime. A couple of uniformed cadets drifted lazily on the ice. Irvine noticed a boy and a girl holding hands as they did laps around the rink. A girl at the far end, far more ambitious than the others, practiced figure skating moves, her skates digging into the ice and sending up snow showers as she leapt and spun.

"We don't have any skates," Selphie said as Irvine pushed open the plastic barrier and stepped onto the slippery ice.

"Don't need 'em," Irvine said. He set down his shotgun on a nearby bench, and Selphie put her nunchaku next to it. "Watch this."

He pushed off the wall and let go of Selphie, propelling himself nearly to the blue offside line. He used the edges of his boots to thrust forward, sliding along awkwardly. He looked absurd, his dusty trench coat flapping around as his boots thumped across the ice. When he spun around and looked, Selphie was grinning. He smiled back. The students on the ice were staring at him, but he couldn't care less.

"Let me try," Selphie said. Her big, clunky boots weren't well-suited for ice, but she successfully managed to stumble and flail about for a bit before crashing to the ice in a giggling heap. The two cadets holding hands glared at Selphie as they skated around her, then muttered something. Their annoyance only made the two outsiders act out even more.

"Check this out!" Irvine said. He dug into the ice and threw himself forward, then slid down to one knee and leaned back, like he was sliding into home plate on a baseball diamond. With the edge of one boot, he carved a wave of ice particles that sliced through the air. He came to a stop and rose to his knees, the cold ice aching against his joints.

"That's nothin'!" Selphie said. She flopped forward, running more than skating, gathering speed with each uncontrolled step. She crossed center ice, faster and faster, then dove onto her stomach and slid forward, her momentum sending her past the offsides line, past the faceoff circles, and into the figure-skating girl. She collapsed onto Selphie with an indignant shriek. Irvine grimaced.

"ARE. YOU. _CRAZY_?" the figure-skating girl screamed. She stumbled to her feet, while Selphie got to hers.

"ARE. YOU. _OKAY_?" Selphie screamed back, repeating the girl's tone. "I. DIDN'T. MEAN. _TO DO THAT_. I'M. REALLY. _SORRY_."

Grumbling, the other girl skated to the nearest door and exited the rink. She slammed the door shut and disappeared from the arena. One by one, the other skaters left the rink as well, staring daggers into the outsider couple. In a few moments, Irvine and Selphie were alone on the ice.

Irvine raised his hands in a victory pose. "THE ICE IS OURS!" he shouted, his voice echoing around the stands.

"WE HAVE CONQUERED THE ICE!" Selphie shouted. "WHOO HOO!"

Their celebration was short-lived, as a few seconds later the figure-skating girl returned, followed closely by an SDI.

(Uh oh.)

"GET OUT!" the SDI shouted.

"THE ICE IS YOURS!" Irvine said, still giddy.

"WE SURRENDER THE ICE!" Selphie yelled. She flopped and skidding and stumbled her way back to the opposite side of the rink. Irvine grabbed hold of her around the waist, feeling the warmth of her body beneath her yellow dress, and guided the pair back to the door they'd come in. Irvine took a moment to kick the ice off his boots and recover their weapons before leaving.

(I wonder if it's a good idea, causin' so much hassle.)

(Eh, whatever.)

Selphie was having fun, and together they were on their way to help their friends in Timber. Whatever Martine thought or didn't think of them was of no consequence to Irvine. Just so long as Martine honored the deal, he was fine with whatever happened.

Irvine and Selphie stepped back out into the hall, the warmer temperature making them acutely aware of all the ice that still clung to their clothes. Irvine used his free hand to swat the patches of ice that had collected on his coat, while Selphie looked up and down the hallway. She turned to him.

"This place is super drab," she said. "Don't you have a Garden Festival Committee to decorate for you?"

"Nope," Irvine said.

"Student Council?"

"Nope."

"Rebel band of artists willing to spit in the face of authority?"

"Heh. Yeah, right."

"Aww, man," Selphie said. She kicked at the floor. "This place is like an army bunker."

Irvine shrugged. "Well, yeah," he said. "That's what it is. G-Garden mostly trains students to join the Galbadian military."

"Yeah, I know that," Selphie said. "But they're not in the army _now_, so they should have some freedoms. Everyone needs a chance to be a kid before they grow up."

"Don't say the 'f' word here," Irvine said. "You'll get a swarm of SDI's in your face."

"So… why'd you wanna come here?" Selphie asked.

"Why'd you want to follow me?" Irvine asked. He raised his eyebrows.

"No, no," Selphie said. She shook her head. "I mean, why'd you come here to at all? After the orphanage?"

He frowned. "You mean I never told you?" he asked.

"Nnnope," Selphie said. "I mean, I just can't imagine you coming_ here_. This place is so not you. Were you forced or something?"

"Eh… Kinda," Irvine said. He lifted his free hand and ran his fingers through his ponytail. "Not forced by any person, but forced by circumstance, you know? It's kinda my foster family's fault. If you're interested in the story…" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Sure!" Selphie said.

Instead of sharing his life story with Selphie while in the middle of a hallway, with strange and slightly hostile students marching up and down all the time, Irvine grabbed Selphie's hand and brought her to the next door, which he knew led to a classroom. He was lucky, and found the room to be empty.

A semicircle of raised seats faced towards a metal podium and a long marker board. Two rows of steps divided the seating section into thirds, and the G-Garden sigil hung high from the back wall. Irvine brought her far enough into the room for the automatic door to shut behind them, then he made his way to the podium. He leaned back against it, resting his elbows casually atop its surface, his shotgun dangling in his hand. Selphie found a nearby seat and flopped down into it, giving him her whole attention.

(Can't believe I never told her this story yet…)

"Anyway, they—my foster parents—were an insanely rich couple living in Deling City," he said. "They stopped by the orphanage and picked me out of the group. I was six or seven, I think. I don't quite remember. Must've been my stunning good looks were obvious even back then."

"Pah, right," Selphie said. "That musta been it."

(Ouch.)

Irvine grinned and continued. "At first I was excited, you know? I was picturing a mansion, lotsa servants, big fancy meals, and whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. I thought I had it made. Turns out these two were the tightest rich people in Galbadia, maybe the world. No mansion, no servants, lousy home-cooked meals, and nothing for free, not even on my birthday. They didn't believe in 'gifts,' even between family members."

"Super lame!" Selphie said.

"Yeah, I thought so too," Irvine said. "'You work for everything you earn, and earn everything you work for.' That's what my foster father always said to me. I'm still not entirely sure what that means. Anyway, they wanted me to take over their business when they retired, so they hired all these tutors and enrolled me in a private school in Deling City with all these other stuffy rich kids. I was stuck in that lousy school with those lousy parents for _years_. Till one day a recruiter from G-Garden came to my school. I was desperate, so I went and talked to him. I was the only one in the whole school who did. No way any of those other rich punks would ever dream of throwing away their future lives as CEOs or whatever to become lowly soldiers.

"So anyway, I talked to this recruiter guy for the better part of an afternoon. He told me that Garden would let me travel, teach me all these useful skills, make me into my own man. I mean, he really sold me on it. By the time I went home, I wanted nothing else. I begged my foster parents to let me enlist, but they wouldn't have it. I had 'responsibilities' they said. They said that enlisting was 'beneath me.' So the next day, I packed all my things and talked to the recruiter again. I forged my parents' signatures, made up a few lies, and ended up in G-Garden.

"I didn't know anything about the other two Gardens at that point. I figured they were all more or less the same. But if I'd known then what I know now, I woulda put in for a transfer, or enlisted in Balamb or Trabia instead. But I didn't know that. I just wanted to get away from my adoptive family, and away from the life they had planned for me. I didn't care where I went, just so long as I never had to see them again."

"You ever talk to them?" Selphie asked. "Your foster parents?"

"Nope," Irvine said. "A couple years after I enlisted, I tracked them down. Turns out they'd adopted some other kid. Some nerdy little geek who was more like what they wanted. That's when I realized they never really wanted a son. They didn't want someone to love. They wanted an heir, someone to carry on their legacy after they died. And they never lifted a finger to try to track me down after I left. They just cut their losses—like any good business people—and found a replacement. You can't do that with real family, you know? You can't just get a new son, or a new father. That's when I knew they never cared in the first place. So screw 'em. I don't miss 'em. And they sure as hell don't miss me."

"That's sad…" Selphie said.

Irvine shrugged. "I don't think so," he said. "You have to love someone first, before you can miss them when they're gone. There was never any love in that family."

He trailed off. Selphie waited, expecting him to continue to the story, but Irvine was silent.

(Actually, now that I think about it...)

Although he never liked his foster parents or his school, he did become accustomed to their lifestyle, their mannerisms, and their expectations. At that time, he saw the world filtered through the window of high privilege and wealth.

So when he enlisted and came to G-Garden, he found himself in a totally different world. Coming down from one of the most prestigious schools in Deling City, he immediately joined the ranks of butcher's sons and farmer's daughters. People of low birth, running to the military to escape poverty, jail, or meaningless lives of drudgery in isolated corners of the world. Irvine had nothing in common with any of them. He was an outsider, and couldn't relate to their problems.

(It all makes sense. Huh… I never really thought of it that way.)

He glanced down at his dusty brown trench coat, his cowboy boots and black hat. The purple vest he wore under his layers of clothing. His persona, the "lonesome sniper." For a time, he managed to convince himself that it was all a ruse, just an easy way to gain a girl's sympathy and trust. But that ruse came from a place of truth; Irvine was alone in the world. His real parents were dead, his foster parents didn't care, and he never truly understood his peers.

With a start, he realized he'd been silent for almost a minute. He shook his head and looked up. There, perched on a chair in the front row, was Selphie, still waiting for Irvine to finish his story.

(I don't have to be alone anymore.)

He smirked. "Anyway, this is a boring subject," he said. "Let's find something to cheer ourselves up!"

"Alright!" Selphie said. She hopped out of her chair.

He rested his shotgun on his shoulder and went for the door. It slid open automatically, admitting the pair back into the gray hallway. Wordlessly, he turned and began heading away from the central quad area, into the less frequented areas of G-Garden. He had no specific destination in mind, but he wanted to keep moving, to give the impression that he knew where he was going. Selphie bounced after him.

After a few minutes and a couple random turns, Selphie lunged out and grabbed Irvine's elbow. He froze in place and turned around.

"Ohh! Ohh!" Selphie said. She was pointing down the hall at something. "Is there a training center here?"

"Huh?" Irvine asked. He looked at her. "Um… No. Just the field house out back. Why?"

"Cause those guys up there have weapons," Selphie said. "Thought maybe they came back from a training center."

Confused, Irvine followed the tip of her finger to where she was pointing down the hall. The corridor ended in a T-shaped intersection and a flat wall. Walking towards the pair was a pair of uniformed cadets, both carrying Galbadian Military Sabers.

"… Weird…" Irvine said. The students passed by, talking to each other, oblivious of Irvine and Selphie standing there, watching them. Irvine chewed his lip and thought to himself.

It was common to see armed students in Balamb and Trabia, but not so much in Galbadia. G-Garden allowed its students to carry their weapons almost anywhere—even to classes, with permission—but they were only permitted to use them outside, in the grounds area. So most students didn't bother hauling their weapons around, adding useless extra weight, unless they were heading to or from a training session or a mission.

(Maybe because Garden's mobile now, they started training indoors?)

That was possible. There were a number of rooms—auditoriums and the like—that were large enough to be converted into makeshift training areas while G-Garden was at sea. But no, that didn't make sense either, because the only rooms nearby were a string of small classrooms and—

(The detention center!)

Down the hall and to the left was where the Garden's detention center was located. Now that he remembered that, Irvine was definitely curious. For as long as he'd been a student at G-Garden, the hallways immediately around the detention center were one of the few no-weapon zones. G-Garden's lax enlistment standards led to them sometimes gathered violent students. Because of that, the detention center was really more of a makeshift prison than anything else, and so it had stricter rules about weapons and the like.

(Something has changed.)  
"Let's go check it out," Irvine said.

He took Selphie down the corridor, beyond the identical blue doors, and to the intersection. There, he turned left. The hallway went on for a few more steps before ending in yet another blue door. This one, however, was marked. In large, block letters the words, "Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only" were written in red and black.

The door opened as easily as any other, sliding open soundlessly at Irvine's approach. Beyond was a short walkway leading to a floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall reinforced glass prison area. The glass panel was incredibly strong and, if Irvine remembered, resistant to most magics as well. A rectangle of white lines scratched into the glass wall indicated where the only door into or out of the detention center was located.

"This area is restricted," a cadet said sternly. He brandished his sword threateningly, pointing the tip at Irvine's chest. Another guard next to the cadet pointed his sword at Selphie. Irvine shrugged and held up his hands, in a gesture of surrender, but he kept a firm grip on his shotgun and peered over the shoulder of the two guards, trying to see who or what was locked up in the detention center.

(Why would they need two armed guards?)

"Sorry, man," Irvine said. "We're just exploring."

The second guard, a boy younger than Irvine by at least two or three years scowled. "The door says, 'Authorized Personnel Only.' Can't you read?"

"My apologies," Irvine said. He sidestepped a pace, in order to better see around the guards.

The room beyond was as sparse as any other Galbadian prison. A long, steel communal bench was on the far wall, providing the only furniture in the room. A metal toilet, shiny and cold, sat in the corner without so much as a curtain for privacy. A few students, both uniformed and not, paced back and forth, keeping an eye on Irvine and Selphie. More students were sitting, leaning, or lying on the metal bench.

Irvine looked at the faces, but saw nothing unusual at first glance. Just the standard fare of truants, smart-mouths, bullies, and students who didn't correctly file a leave of absence and got marked AWOL. There was one girl, with long brown hair tied in a ponytail, lying curled up on the bench, facing the wall. A black blanket with the G-Garden sigil covered most of her body, but she was the only slightly odd thing Irvine saw.

Until his gaze reached the end of the bench.

"Well, lookee here," Seifer said, smiling broadly. He stood up from the bench and approached the glass wall. "Are you two my rescue squad? Am I finally saved? My prayers are answered."

"Seifer?" Selphie asked. "What are you doing here?"

Seifer shrugged, and gestured to the blank walls around him. "Figured I'd try to be the first person to get locked up in all three Garden detention rooms. Two down, one to go. Or… wait. Does Trabia still have a detention room, or just a pile of rubble now?"

"Hey! Not cool!" Selphie said. She waved her arms and stomped her foot. Irvine knew she was prone to over-dramatic gestures at times, but this time she meant it. Her eyes burned into Seifer's, her teeth clenched.

(Good thing there's a wall between us.)

"Doesn't matter," Seifer said. "Just point me at the pile of rocks that used to be Trabia's detention center, and I'll stand in it for a couple minutes. A symbolic act, you might say."

"Shut it, Seifer," Irvine said, starting to get angry himself now.

"Yeah, we're the only ones who can get you out of here!" Selphie said. "So be nice!"

"Enough! All of you!" one of the guards said. He pressed his blade closer to Irvine, trying to establish his strength and authority. "No talking with the prisoners. Leave now!"

"Oh, hush!" Selphie said. In seconds a pale blue ball of energy formed in the chain between her nunchaku. She tugged on both ends of her weapon, snapping the chain taut, and the sleep spell flew out and hit the student, enveloping him in a white smoke that sucked into his eyes, nose, and mouth. The student gasped, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he collapsed to the floor.

The other guard rushed at Selphie in retaliation, raising his blade up high to bring it down on Selphie's head. In one smooth motion, Irvine stepped in front of her and caught the blade against the barrel of his shotgun. With his augmented strength, it was easy for Irvine to push aside the boy's sword with one stroke, and crack him in the jaw with a second. The student dropped to the floor in a limp heap, unconscious, beside his gently snoring companion.

"… So now what?" Seifer asked. He sneered at the pair. "You didn't happen to bring the whole Garden with you, did you? Or an army? Maybe that badass spaceship you guys were flyin' around in?"

Irvine and Selphie glanced at each other, but didn't answer.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Seifer said. He stepped closer to the glass, until his nose was almost touching it. "Even if you got me out of here, where the hell would we _go_? We're in the middle of the damn ocean. How far do you two think you can swim?" He rolled his eyes. "Tch. Dumbasses."

"You'd rather stay in here?" Selphie asked.

"I don't remember askin' to be rescued," Seifer snapped. "'Specially not by ladyboy and little miss hugs and kisses here. I can handle my own problems."

(Ladyboy? _Ladyboy_?)

"Seifer, I think the phrase you were lookin' for wasn't 'ladyboy,'" Irvine said. He tipped his hat. "But instead, 'ladies' man.'"  
Irvine posed cockily for a moment. Selphie turned to him, fuming, and slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to sting even though his trench coat. He yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

Seifer snorted. "Ain't you two just hilarious." He shook his head. "If you two really wanna do something useful with your lives, then get her out of here."

He turned around and pointed at the sleeping girl, the one covered by the Galbadian blanket.

"She's a sorceress," he said, turning back around. "I think they killed her, but you know how that goes. They ain't sure what to do with her now, so they got her in here, with a couple guards to make sure she stays put."

(Why should I believe anything Seifer says?)

"How do you know she's a sorceress?" Irvine asked.

Seifer gave him an insulted look. "Nevermind," he said. "Galbadia is huntin' sorceresses. They're in Balamb right now, pullin' women and kids out of their homes to look for 'em. You might wanna keep an extra eye on Rinoa, if you've got half a brain between you two."

The door behind them slid open, and Irvine heard the rapid marching of many feet. He and Selphie spun around, coming face-to-face with a dozen or more armed students and G-Army soldiers, a wall of blades and rifles pointed at them.

(Well… damn.)

Behind Irvine, in the cell, Seifer laughed. "Man, what a great rescue."

Martine's voice called out from the rear of the cluster of Galbadians.

"Hands up," he said. "Drop your weapons. No sudden movements."

Irvine and Selphie sighed, put their weapons on the floor, and raised their hands above their heads. Two of the guards rushed forward and restrained the pair by tying their hands behind their backs with plastic zip wire. The guards stayed behind them, holding on to their wrists to keep them still. Another pair of guards scrambled up and confiscated their weapons. The sleeping guards on the floor were wakened, and brought out into the hallway.

Martine made his way through the guards. They stepped aside to allow their Headmaster through. Martine stepped inside the detention center and stood before Irvine and Selphie, his hands folded behind his back.

"Kinneas, you disappoint me," he said. He shook his head sadly. "I give you free reign of the Garden, offer to escort you to Deling City and expunge your record. I even let you keep your weapons, as a show of faith. And this is what you choose to do. Lack of proper discipline has softened your mind, Kinneas. I should have been harder on you from the start."

Irvine snorted dismissively, and asked, "Is that girl in there a sorceress?"

Martine peered through the glass, to the girl who was lying on the bench.

"The girl is sleeping," Martine said. "If she were really a sorceress, I would imagine it would take more than our flimsy walls to hold her captive. I cannot remember what she did, but I assure you, she's just a regular student here."

Seifer scoffed. "Bull."

"What are you gonna do with Seifer?" Selphie asked.

Martine turned to her. "Seifer is a prisoner of Galbadia. He, like you two, was given the opportunity to assist us, but he instead chose to tear a path of destruction up and down the streets of Balamb, resulting in numerous casualties."

Seifer snorted and rolled his eyes. He turned his back on the headmaster and reclaimed his seat on the bench. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, watching the conversation play out.

"What're you gonna do to him?" Selphie said.

"Well," Martine said, "Officially, we reported that Seifer was executed weeks ago, following his stunt with the former president Deling. It would be awfully embarrassing for the government if he were to turn up somewhere, alive and well."

(Wait… they're not gonna…)

Selphie beat Irvine to the question. "So you're gonna execute him!?"

She stomped the floor with both feet, jostling the guard standing behind her. The guard grabbed her shoulders, restraining her, but she fought back. Another guard broke from the pack to help hold her in place. After a moment, she settled down, but continued to stare daggers into Martine. He seemed unimpressed.

"That's up to him," Martine said. "Seifer's experience with the Sorceress Edea is invaluable to our war effort. He has an insight into the mind of the sorceress that few others in the world possess. If he chooses to cooperate, a pardon for his crimes is not out of the question. If not… however…"

Martine shrugged and looked through the glass. Seifer stared back, completely disinterested, as if death was only a minor inconvenience for him.

"If not, well, I don't want anyone to accuse the government of lying," Martine said.

"You can't!" Selphie said.

"I don't think you should waste your pity on him," Martine said. "He's done nothing to earn it. If I'd realized earlier you two had a personal connection with him, I would have taken more care to ensure that you did not find your way into here, and we could have avoided this whole awkward situation. It was a miscalculation on my part."

"I'll give YOU a miscalculation!" Selphie yelled, tugging at her restraints and forcing the two students to brace themselves to keep her from attacking the Headmaster. She kicked and spun, trying to break free, fighting against the Galbadians.

(Fighting to help Seifer…)

(… But why?)

Irvine looked at her and shook his head. "Why do you care?"

"Huh?" Selphie said. She turned to Irvine and stopped struggling. Her guards took this moment to catch their breaths.

"I said, why do you care?" Irvine repeated. He shrugged. "Seifer tried to kill us… umm… let's see, one… two… three… four times at least. He tortured Squall. He held his gunblade to Rinoa's throat. He caused the Lunar Cry, and nearly ended the world. I'm sorry, but… I don't care whether he dies or not. He's not our friend."

"Ain't that the truth," Seifer said.

"He's one of us!" Selphie said, hurt and indignation threading her voice. "He's from the orphanage. And he's from Garden."

"So?" Irvine said.

"So? SO?!" Selphie said, tugging at her wrist-restraints. Her guards leapt into action again, putting their hands on her arms and shoulders, fighting to keep her still. Even though she was a tiny little thing, her junctions gave her far more strength than anyone could expect. Yet another guard broke from the hallway to come and help detain Selphie.

"Yeah. So?" Irvine said. "When someone tries to kill me, I don't turn around and stick my neck out for 'em. I really don't understand why you're so upset about this. Seems like Galbadia is doing our dirty work for us."

Selphie resisted the guards for a couple more seconds, then went limp. She turned her head away from Irvine, her eyes cast down at the floor. Using her shoulder, she adjusted the wool cap on her head—a remnant from her cold weather gear in Trabia. She pulled the cap down as far as it would go, as if hiding from Irvine.

(I don't know what else to tell her.)

(We have other friends who need our help. Actual friends, who care about us.)

(Seifer is our enemy. Always was, always will be.)

Martine watched the whole exchange, no doubt paying extra attention to the list of Seifer's past faults. After a few moments of silence, he stepped forward.

"I'm glad to see you've still got a rational mind, Kinneas," Martine said. "I'm willing to forgive this indiscretion of yours. But only if you promise to forget this incident and cooperate with us and with General Caraway. I'll still allow you to transfer out of G-Garden, when all this is done. However, as punishment, you'll both be confined to your dorm until we arrive in Deling City. Break the rules again, Kinneas, and you'll arrive in Deling City not as guests, but as prisoners."

(He's being… quite forgiving.)

Irvine had expected much more than just a slap on the wrists. He got the feeling that there was a great deal that Martine wasn't telling him, something about Caraway or Deling City that made him extra lenient towards his guests. Still, he wasn't going to complain about easy treatment.

"Fair enough," Irvine said, nodding.

"Take them to dorm 20A," Martine said to the guards.

The guards nodded to the Headmaster and ushered Irvine and Selphie out of the detention center and down the hall to the dorms. It was a long, quiet walk through the halls to the second-floor dormitories. All through the trip, Selphie made a point of frowning as hard as she could and stomping her boots louder than necessary. At first, Irvine felt a little bit guilty about not taking her side, but as he walked, he found more and more justifications for _not_ helping Seifer, and fewer reasons to empathize with Selphie.

They were brought into an austere dorm room. Unlike the highly decorated and personalized dorms in Balamb, Galbadia's dorms were nothing more than military bunk beds and steel writing desks with computers on top. In the far corner was a narrow doorway leading into the private bathroom. The same room that, mere hours ago, had been the setting of his latest Selphie-oriented fantasies. Now, those fantasies were gone, and the bathroom was just a room.

Irvine and Selphie were pushed roughly inside by their guards, their hands quickly unbound. The guards stepped outside, closing the door. Irvine glanced behind him and saw his shotgun and Selphie's nunchaku lying on the floor.

(At least we still got those.)

Irvine and Selphie both rubbed their wrists, still sore from the restraints, and stared at each other.

"So… what're we gonna do about Seifer?" Selphie asked.

Irvine shook his head. "What about him?" he asked.

"What?" Selphie said.

"What what?" Irvine said.

"I mean, what?" Selphie said. "I thought you were actin' for Martine. You know, pretending to be on his side so he'd lower his guard. Aren't we gonna bust out Seifer now? They aren't gonna suspect it, and I've still got a ton more sleep spells we can use. And they were dumb enough to give us our weapons back! Look!"

"I wasn't acting," Irvine said. "I really, honestly, truly don't give a damn what happens to Seifer. I don't."

Selphie's expression drooped. "But.. why?" she asked. "He's part of the Orphanage Crew! The Matron Six!"

(…The Matron Six?)

"Seifer betrayed us," Irvine said. "He jumped sides and became Ultimecia's knight. He's not part of our crew anymore. We don't owe him anything."

"But we can't just…" Selphie said. She frowned, hard, and flopped down onto the bottom bunk. The metal springs creaked under her weight. "You act like he'll never change. Like he's going to be bad forever. He's just a kid, you know? Like us."

"People can change sometimes," Irvine said. "But only if they really want to. You saw him in there. That's the exact same Seifer we fought in Lunatic Pandora, the one who was screaming about 'Ultimecia's wish,' and whatever else. He's a mad dog, Selphie, and if we let him off his chain, he's just going to bite us."

The two were silent for some time. Finally, in a small voice, barely audible, Selphie said, "I… don't know why I care. But I do. I can't _not_ care."

(I can.)

Irvine sighed and tugged on the brim of his hat. "Look… some people… ergh."

He sighed again and tried to gather his thoughts.

"I told you about my parents," he said. "My foster parents. Do you think I owe them anything?"

"I dunno," Selphie said. "I never met 'em."

"But you know the story," he said. "They didn't want me, so I left. And now, Seifer doesn't want us. And say what you'd like about my foster family, they were just a couple of stuck-up rich folks with more money than heart. Neither of them were murderin' psychopaths. So, not only can I _not_ care about Seifer, I can _not_ care pretty easily. Seifer grew up in the same orphanage as us, but… he's made his choices. And we've made ours."

(Is any of this getting through?)

Selphie sat on the bottom bunk, her hands folded in her lap, her wool cap pulled down almost over her eyes. She was sullen, silent, gazing sightlessly at Irvine's chest, but not looking him in the face.

Irvine shrugged, then said, "Well, there's nothing we can do right now. Even if we tried something, Seifer was right: we're in the middle of the ocean, and it's just the two of us against all of G-Garden. We have to at least wait until we get to land before we can help out."

"No…" Selphie said softly, not bothering to move. "No, you're right. We can't do anything. We shouldn't do anything. Seifer is Seifer's problem, not ours."

(I have to fix this. I can't let tonight end like this.)

The day, the whole day, had been just such a crazy mix of emotions. After days of digging in the rubble in Trabia, he finally found the elevator shaft leading down into the MD levels. But the whole mission proved to be a bust, a big waste of time. The G-Garden came, and he started to wonder if he was going to die next to Selphie, atop the barrier wall of Trabia Garden. To die without ever expressing his true feelings for her.

Then they came aboard the Garden and everything was going so well. Selphie cheered up—really let loose—for the first time in days. For a short time, she seemed like she was before Trabia: excited, full of hope, spontaneous. He told her his story, and realized how incredibly important she was to him. She and all his true friends, who'd stood by him after years of living with people who only wanted to use him, or leave him.

And then the stupid detention center, and stupid Seifer.

(I can't care about him, and Selphie can't help but care about him.)

Irvine sighed. "Look, we'll talk in the morning, okay? We're both just really tired."

Selphie said nothing. She stretched out on the bed, her head on the pillow and boots still on her feet. It was still several hours before nightfall, but after everything that happened, Irvine felt like he could sleep for a week.

He took off his hat and hung it on the edge of the bedpost, then climbed up a short ladder to the top bunk, ducking his head to keep from hitting the low ceiling. Still in his clothes, he stretched out on his side and turned to the front door.

When he'd been a student at G-Garden, he always used to shut off the lights by taking off one glove and throwing it at the switch. He eyed the button on the wall and peeled off a glove. He chucked it sidearm, and it slapped the wall, killing the lights and plunging the dorm into darkness. A little bit of light still streamed in through the blinds.

"G'night, Selphie," Irvine said.

He got no response.


	12. Chapter 12: The Sorceress' Powers

_**Chapter 12**_

_**The Sorceress' Powers**_

(Rinoa)

_Adel sits cross-legged by a small, dying fire. The low embers do little to combat the growing cold, the mounting darkness, but there is no more wood left to strengthen the fire. The rest of her companions have already given in to slumber, their soft sighs and snores drifting through the night. She cannot see any of them, but she knows where they are by the sounds they make. _

_ She looks up, wishing for the moon and stars to keep her company through the night. But the sky is black and empty. No moon, no stars, no companions, and the fire—her only comfort—is slowly fading. _

_ Adel reaches into the darkness by her side and draws out a travel-stained blanket. She wraps herself in its itchy warmth and lies on her side, her eyes fixed on the last few red embers before her. She tries to watch the fire until it dies, but sleep claims her first. _

Adel's dusty, cold world fell away, and transitioned to the hard floor of Dr. Odine's computer lab. Rinoa opened her eyes, staring at the flat ceiling above her. Nearby, Ellone kneeled on a cushion taken from a chair in another room. Ellone opened her eyes and watched as Rinoa sat up, rubbing her forehead.

"That was no good," Rinoa said. "She just sat by a fire. Nothing else happened."

Ellone nodded and said, "I know. Do you think we should try going further back in the past, or closer to the present?"

Rinoa thought about it for a moment. "Hmm… Closer to the present, I think. I wanna see how she became a sorceress, and how she got to Esthar."

(And why she became a monster…)

Ellone nodded. "I'll try my best. Lay down."

Rinoa stretched out on the floor, her head propped up by a technician's lab coat. The two women were alone in the room. All around them, machinery hummed, electrical circuits snapped and popped, and computer screens spit out endless streams of data. Whatever experiments the computers were calculating didn't require anyone's supervision, so Odine and his team had left the computers alone to do their work.

Off to the side, Rinoa could see Ellone closing her eyes and concentrating. A second or two later, an intense wave of exhaustion swept over Rinoa. She suddenly felt as though she hadn't slept for days. Her eyes itched, demanding to be shut. Her head ached, and a piercing drone lit up the inside of her skull, blocking out all thought. She winced, but the pain persisted. When Rinoa thought she could no longer bear the whining shriek in her ears, it stopped, and the computer room was gone, the floor was gone, and the lab coat under her head was gone.

_Power._

_ That is the first sensation Rinoa is aware of. The power runs through Adel's body, thicker than blood. With it, Rinoa feels as though she could tear apart a mountain with her hands, drag the moon from the sky with a thought, and crush every living thing on the planet. She is invincible, omnipotent, eternal. _

_ When the shock of newfound strength wears off, Rinoa is able to gather her wits and focus on Adel's other sensations. Rinoa does not recognize the wide, empty room, but she identifies the décor as being distinctly Estharian. Adel's clawed fingers are digging ruts into the armrests of her elaborate throne. She inhales, slowly, luxuriously. To her, it feels as though she is not merely drawing breath, but sucking the life force out of the world. With every intake of air, she absorbs vitality from the planet, using its energy to feed her staggering power. She is the new god of reality, and every resource—the air, the water, the people—exists for her glory alone. _

_ Before her is a legion of Esthar soldiers, clad in identical uniforms, kneeling, heads bowed. Shivering. Terrified. They make themselves small, so as to not draw her gaze. They keep themselves silent, so as to not inspire her wrath. _

_ Adel's exact thoughts are a mystery to Rinoa, but she can feel bits and pieces of Adel's emotions. It is intoxicating, being Adel. The sense of being utterly untouchable. The concept of fear has been wiped from Adel's mind, for there is nothing in the world that can threaten her. With no pain to shy away from, no imminent death to humble her, no sickness to slow her, Adel is free from the bonds of mortality and can live and consume and destroy as she pleases. _

_ Rinoa is startled to find herself enjoying this. To simply sit in the room as Adel, confident, powerful, feared. Adel does not need to prove her strength to others; it is a given fact of the universe, like gravity. She does not share Rinoa's uncertainties, her doubts, and she laughs at lesser sorceresses like Rinoa and her frailties. _

_ (No… This isn't me. I'm not like her.)_

_ Rinoa distances herself from Adel's mind, from that well of addictive power, building a wall between herself and the mad tyrant. She remembers who she is. Unlike Adel, Rinoa respects and fears her power as a sorceress. She is not arrogant enough to take pleasure in her strength. She does not use her power to harm others. _

_ She—_

The power departed from Rinoa's body, leaving her cold and tired. After feeling the rush of Adel's strength, her own body felt as though she was made of glass, ready to be shattered. As the sensations of the computer lab returned to her, she exhaled in both relief and disappointment. It was sad to lose that feeling of strength. Sad, but necessary.

(I will never be like that. I'll never be another Adel.)

"Sorry, Rinoa," Ellone said. She shook her head. "That's too recent. It's hard for me to focus, because I didn't really know Adel that well. But I'll get it eventually, don't worry."

"It's okay," Rinoa said. She didn't open her eyes, instead taking the time to mentally prepare herself for her next trip into Adel's past.

"I'll try a little further back this time," Ellone said.

Rinoa waited for the whining drone of Ellone's power to return—and it did, washing over her like a swarm of buzzing insects, swallowing her in darkness and depositing her in the past.

_Power._

_ Once again, power. Glorious, undeniable power. _

_ (Too recent. We're gonna have to try again.)_

_ But that thought occurs before Rinoa has taken stock of Adel's other senses. Adel has the same power she had while sitting upon the throne of Esthar, but she is not in Esthar. She is once more in the brown, barren fields of the Centra continent. Again, she is riding in a cart, drawn by a ragged, near-death chocobo. _

_ The caravan of others, in their dusty tunics and elaborate jewelry are nowhere around. The woman called "Mother" is gone. The man Durand, and all the others, gone as well. There is only Adel, the cart, the chocobo, and the ever-nearing mountain range ahead. _

_ Adel doesn't notice her fingers clutching the sides of the cart, but Rinoa does. Rinoa sees, and is frightened. Adel's fingers have turned blue, and her nails black. They are elongated, and sharp like daggers. But the hands, the palms, are still pale, fleshy, and human. Adel has not yet become the monster that Rinoa will eventually meet in person, but she is changing into her. The sickness of mind and body is enveloping her, corrupting her. Adel can feel the rot growing in her heart, and she welcomes it. _

_ The chocobo's steps begin to falter as it struggles to drag the cart up a hill. It stumbles to one knee, squawking in pain, and is slow to recover. Too slow. Adel narrows her eyes and watches the animal's suffering. She feels no sympathy for its misery, only contempt for its weakness. She chose the bird to bring her to her destination. She spared its life so that it may serve her, and it is failing in its task, its reason for being. And Adel no longer needs to suffer the failure of others. _

_ The chocobo stumbles again, but this time cannot save itself. With a whistling cry, the beast collapses on its chest, still strapped to the cart by a worn leather harness and a wooden yoke. The cart dips forward as the chocobo falls, nearly pitching Adel up over the front beam. She catches herself in time, and is overcome by rage. _

_ She looks at the chocobo on the ground before her. Its chest heaves for air, its dirty feathers fall off in clumps, revealing patches of splotchy, discolored skin. The chocobo is dying. _

_ Fury beyond fury blocks all of Adel's thoughts. She nimbly leaps from the cart and walks around the fluffy mass of the chocobo, moving towards its head. Wind escapes the bird's nostrils in short blasts, stirring up little clouds of dust on the ground. With every breath, the chocobo wheezes, a deathly rattle shaking its chest. _

_ Adel turns to face the chocobo and the cart. They are both useless to her now. In the back of her mind, she remembers the cold nights in the fields, watching the night fires fade to nothing. She remembers the helplessness of knowing that the dark and the cold are coming, and the feeling of being unable to keep the fire alight long enough to combat them. _

_ But those days are over. Now, there will always be fire if Adel wills it. _

_ Adel raises her hand. If the bird and the cart cannot serve her, then they will burn. _

Ellone sat on the cushion, her hands on her lap, saying nothing. Rinoa opened her eyes, sightlessly observing the dull gray ceiling, trying to push the memory out of her mind. Trying to understand how the seemingly innocent little girl from long ago became the monster that Rinoa and Ellone just witnessed.

(I don't understand.)

(How could someone have so much hate?)

"I…" Ellone said. She sighed, gathered herself, and tried again. "I think we're close. I think she was heading to Esthar. If I go a little closer to the present, we can learn more about how she got here. If… if you're okay, that is."

"I'm okay," Rinoa said. She tried to smile, but the attempt was feeble, unconvincing.

(I'm not okay.)

(But I still need to know more.)

Rinoa turned her head and looked into Ellone's eyes. Ellone was visibly trying to control herself. It was one thing to be told about an act of cruelty. It was still another to witness an act of cruelty. But they had both done more than merely witness. They'd physically experienced the act, feeling the power as Adel summoned her magic to destroy her chocobo and her cart. Felt both her hatred and her pleasure as she watched it all burn. The memory of it was bright in her mind, sickening her.

But through it all, Rinoa had noticed an important detail. Adel had so much power, far beyond what Rinoa currently possessed. Rinoa was a sorceress too, no more or less than Adel. She felt the rush of her magic coursing in her body, even as she sat idly on the floor of the computer lab. But it was absolutely nothing compared to Adel's.

(So what's the difference? Why did Adel have all that power, and I don't?)

Dr. Odine had proven earlier that sorceress powers don't compound upon each other, so the theory that maybe Adel had gathered her strength by absorbing other sorceresses was false. There had to be another answer, and Rinoa suspected that it was hidden in Adel's past.

(And what made her skin change color?)

"I wanna go further back," Rinoa said. "I don't really care how Adel got to Esthar anymore. I wanna see how she became a sorceress. That's the important thing, I think."

Ellone nodded, and Rinoa closed her eyes. She couldn't tell if Ellone was getting faster at forming the connection, or if Rinoa was just becoming more accustomed to the feeling, but it seemed only a few seconds before the darkness took her, and she was once more a bystander in Adel's mind.

_No power. Not this time._

_ Rinoa is relieved. Pleasurable as the power is, it is also terrifying. Like a hurricane, it is both horrifying and oddly beautiful. The lack of power shows that they have gone far enough back in time, and are drawing closer to the truth. _

_ Adel's hands—human hands—are picking splotchy red-and-green berries from a scrubby bush. A few paces away, other children are also picking berries, filling small stone bowls with the tiny fruits. Adel scowls at the other children, scowls at the berries. She reaches into the bush, the thorns and brambles clawing at her hands, but callouses have built up over the years, protecting her from minor scrapes and cuts. Though the work isn't as painful as it used to be, Adel still hates it as much as she always did. _

_ She picks a few more berries and drops them into her bowl. The bowl is nearly full now. Adel turns away from the bush and approaches an older woman with long black hair, streaked with silver. She wears many necklaces, all dusty and travel-worn. Her warm, kind eyes harden when she sees Adel. An edge of contempt creeps into Adel's mind. _

_ "I'm done," Adel says, flatly. She holds up her bowl. The woman looks down at Adel's offering and frowns. _

_ "You are not done, child," she says. She gives Adel a light swat on the head. "I said to fill that bowl all the way. That means you are not done until you cannot possibly fit another berry in the bowl. Go back, Adel."_

_ Grumbling, Adel turns around and heads back to the bush. Another child, much younger, scampers gleefully to the woman and holds up her bowl. Laughing as if it's all a game. _

_ "All done!" she says with a childish lisp. The woman smiles and nods. The warmth she denied Adel returns to her face._

_ "Very good. You may go play now."_

_ Cheering, the girl hands her bowl to the woman and joins a circle of other children who are playing some game using sticks and rocks and circles scratched in the dirt. Adel envies them, not because she wishes to be playing with them, but because she is tired of working. She wants to be finished, so she can leave the others and go wandering out in the fields. She wants to be alone._

_ "No playing until your chores are done, Adel," the berry woman says. Adel grumbles again and turns to the bush. _

_ In her heart, she hopes they all choke to death on the berries. _

Little memories like this came and went for Ellone and Rinoa as they teased their way closer and closer to the day when Adel became a sorceress. Mostly, the memories they view are of traveling. Endlessly, endlessly traveling. In each point in time, the brown fields never change, and the mountains in the distance never seem to get any closer.

In the beginning, Rinoa believed that these nomads had a set destination in mind; that eventually she and Ellone would stumble across the time when Adel actually arrived at an important location. But they never did. These people traveled constantly, only stopping to rest and gather their meager food from the unforgiving landscape.

(Not the kind of life I'd want.)

An hour, maybe two, passed in this manner, as Rinoa and Ellone explored more of Adel's past. Though much of the memories were dull and repetitive, they slowly began to understand the person that Adel used to be. They felt her frustration, her desire to break free from her life. They witnessed the growing resentment she harbored for her tribe, and how that resentment eventually turned to hate.

Rinoa understood this all, but she doesn't forgive any of it. Adel's life was hard, harder than it should have been. But it was not an excuse to become a tyrant.

(Nothing could excuse what she did.)

_Another memory of the carts. _

_Adel is sitting next to the man that Rinoa knows is Durand—though she still hasn't learned what Durand's relationship is with Adel. Father? Brother? She can only guess. Their ragged, weary chocobo pulls them onward towards the mountains. It's not the same chocobo that Adel will later burn alive in a fit of rage, but it is similar. _

_ Adel is now a teenager, her long, spindly arms and legs hanging off the edge of the cart as it bumps along the uneven ground. Her dark red hair falls over her face, but she doesn't bother to move it aside. Her anger is now constant—burning steadily in her chest even when nothing is happening. Adel no longer needs an excuse to be furious: it is her natural state of mind._

_ A span of endless, rolling brown fields pass, and Rinoa is ready to leave this time period and try a later point in history, when a familiar structure appears on the horizon. At first, Rinoa cannot remember where she recalls it from, then she realizes that it is an older version of the Centra Ruins that she, Squall, and the others will later explore during their trip to the Centra Continent. _

_ But in this time, the ruins are not "ruins" at all, but relatively new. A massive, thin tower emerges from the ground, as if some giant shoved a stone pencil into the earth. Four slanted pillars descend from the top of the tower—like the edges of a pyramid—and four more rise from the bottom. The pillars meet in the middle, forming a diamond shape around the tower. _

_ (Ellone… stick with this one. I think this is important.)_

_ Ellone doesn't reply, but she keeps the connection strong, allowing the memory to play out a little longer. _

_ Durand looks at the tower. _

_ "We're almost there," he says to Adel. "Are you ready?"_

_ Adel nods. Beneath her placid expression, years of pent-up anger consume her mind. She knows what the others expect of her, and what they want her to do when she reaches the tower. But she has plans of her own, and she is almost trembling with excitement. Soon she will be free. Soon she will escape these dusty peasants and live the life that she wants._

_ Soon, she will burn whatever stands in her way. _

_ It is then that Rinoa feels a tremor of power pass through Adel's body like an electric charge. The feeling is fleeting, but unmistakable. In this time, in this memory, Adel is a sorceress. More importantly, she is a sorceress, but she does not yet have the godlike power she will inherit later in life. Her energy is familiar, more akin to what flows in Rinoa's body. _

_ (That means…)_

_ As the army of carts and chocobos draw nearer to the tower, Rinoa sorts out the clues. Adel is a sorceress, but her power is incomplete. That means that she is soon to acquire that strength. Which means… _

_ (There's a way to make a sorceress even stronger. And it might have to do with the Centra Ruins.)_

_ Suddenly the trip to Esthar and all the time spent combing through Adel's past has significance. Rinoa is not merely learning the history of a tyrant, she is learning about sorceresses, and about herself. If there is a way for sorceresses to become more powerful, then such knowledge would have a grave impact on the world. It might explain Ultimecia, and the source of her power as well._

_ Rinoa feels as anxious as Adel, but for different reasons. The tower looms nearer. _

_ Durand and Adel's cart draws up to the foot of the tower. Around the base is a wide, neglected garden, choked with weeds and wildflowers. A staircase, seemingly supported by nothing at all, extends from the tower down to the ground. An archway stands at the foot of these steps, and beside the archway is a sign with the words, "My Blue Heaven."_

_ (Whatever that means…)_

_ "We're here," Durand says. "It is time."_

_ Adel doesn't need to be instructed further. She leaps from the cart and hits the ground, never taking her eyes off the tower. Others are approaching as well, stopping their carts and tying their chocobos to the ruins. Adel waits for them to gather, but her patience is fraying. She crosses her arms and taps her foot. _

_ At last, the old woman from Rinoa's first vision approaches. The woman the others call, "Mother." As before, she wears an elaborate robe, unlike the ragged tunics of the rest of the tribe. She smiles at Adel and nods. Adel nods back. The old woman seems to have become shorter, but Rinoa realizes that it is just Adel who has grown taller. Adel is now at least as old as Rinoa in this memory, if not older. _

_ "Come along," the old woman says. "It is time to begin the ritual."_

_ Adel nods again, this time showing her enthusiasm. Others see her excitement and smile in approval. They believe that she is eager to fulfill her destiny as a sorceress. But she knows she is going to carve her own destiny soon. One entirely different from the one they intend for her. _

_ The old woman leads the procession up the stairs. Adel follows a step behind her, and the rest of the tribe follow after Adel. Rainbow beams of energy form handrails on either side of the staircase, lighting up as the they approach, then fading when they leave. _

_After several flights of twisting stairs, there is a wide, empty courtyard, suspended far above the earth, with nothing supporting it below. At the center of the courtyard is a fountain, dry for decades, with ruined statues in the middle. The old woman leads the procession around this fountain and across the courtyard, to another set of stairs leading to still greater heights. _

_ Rinoa knows this tower, from having visited it herself. Once they are further inside, the tribe has to complete a small puzzle in order to unlock the tower's secrets. Several fit young men are summoned by the old woman, and sent ahead to unlock the way and recover keys needed to advance. These keys turn out to be a pair of red stones and a numeric passcode. They hand the stones to Mother, and whisper the code in her ear. _

_The procession reaches a landing in the midst of a long spiraling staircase, where there is a platform leading to a sealed doorway. Near the door is a black gargoyle, its face frozen in a snarl. The old woman puts the red stones into the gargoyle's empty eye sockets and enters the code into a rusty keypad at the bottom of the statue. The code is accepted, and the door shudders open. The woman leads the group inside. By now, Adel is bursting with excitement, her fingers fidgeting, her heart hammering. _

_ Inside is a massive, domed room. An iron throne, too large to be used by even the tallest person who ever lived, stands in the middle of the circular room. Steel pipes and ancient wires lead to and from the throne, disappearing into the floor. A number of control rest on either side of the doorway. These machines have no meaning to Rinoa, but the tribe knows their uses, and gets to work bringing the ancient technology to life. _

_ The old woman turns to Adel. "Sit on the throne."_

_ Gladly, Adel obeys, stepping around the woman and approaching the throne, grinning at how appropriate a throne is for her and her ambitions. Now that the long-awaited moment is here, she hesitates, drawing it out. Savoring it. She approaches the throne step by step, taking in its details. She touches one hand on the seat, which stands nearly at her chest. The seat is cold and hard, coated with a layer of dust. Adel rubs the dust between her fingers, then wipes it off on her tunic. _

_Then, finally, she can wait no more. She pulls herself up onto the chair and spins around, sitting upon it. The armrests are too high for her to reach and her feet dangle well above the ground, but that doesn't matter. Already, she feels like a goddess, and the tribal people who have gathered around her feel like servants. _

_ The machinery around Adel begins to stir, and the ritual begins. The old woman steps forward, facing Adel, but standing a distance from the throne. _

_ "For centuries, the Centra drew from the power of Hyne's Fount," the woman says, speaking loudly so that all can hear. "They gave its power to their sorceresses, and trusted them to lead with strength and wisdom. Today, we revive that ancient custom, and draw from the Fount again. Our days of roaming are over, and the Centra shall live and rule once more!"_

_ (What's Hyne's Fount?)_

_ The tribe cheers, ready to see an end to their harsh, difficult lives. Adel smiles as well, but for reasons known only to her. _

_ "Start the ritual," the old woman says. _

_ A tribesman to Adel's left enters a code into a panel, and the throne room is filled with light. The sudden illumination forces the tribe to shut their eyes, but Adel forces herself to watch. She wants to see every moment. See… and remember. _

_ Machinery deep within the tower rumbles to life, shaking the tower to its foundation. The light grows brighter and brighter. Adel squints, resisting the urge to shut her eyes, but finally she is overcome. She closes her eyes and covers them with both hands, but the impossible light shines through, blinding her even with her eyes shut and covered. _

_ And then… the power. Power fresh to Adel, but familiar to Rinoa and Ellone. The power comes from the base of the structure and up through the pipes, through the circuitry, into the throne, and into Adel. _

_ The rumbling and shaking of the tower are now insignificant. The blinding light is nothing. There is only that endless energy, filling Adel beyond comprehension, then filling her beyond even that. It as if the world itself has been hollowed out and emptied into Adel. There is so much more than Adel expected, and more keeps coming. _

_ Rinoa is overwhelmed by sensation, desperate for the ritual to end, but Adel does not share her feelings. She wants more, and more, and more. She has power beyond what she could ever possibly use, power enough to maybe destroy the world, and yet she greedily takes everything she is given. _

_ Finally, the ritual stops. The rumbling ceases, the light fades. Rinoa is relieved, and Adel is disappointed. But her disappointment lasts only a moment. She has now everything she wants and more. The power within her demands to be used, and she has no desire to withhold her strength. _

_ "Now we—" the old woman starts to say. But Adel has had enough of her speeches. She has heard enough about the rebirth of the Centra, and Adel's "destiny" and her "purpose." She is tired of listening to the crone ramble on about such meaningless tripe. And now, Adel never needs hear her again. _

_ With a thought, she silences the old woman by crushing her throat. _

_ It is a simple gesture. Adel merely raises her hand, clenches her fist, and the old woman's neck snaps like a chicken's, without Adel leaving her throne. The sound is satisfying. Adel unclenches her fingers, and the old woman collapses to the floor like an unwanted doll. Adel's only regret is that she cannot kill the hag a second time. _

_ She smiles. _

_ There is a moment where the others in the tribe stand frozen in shock, fear, and outrage. But it is only a moment. That is all that Adel allows them to have. _

_Since first becoming a sorceress, she has made fires with her mind. She has twisted the wind, made water from earth, and split open rocks merely by wishing for it. But she is new to her sorceress abilities, and has never known the power she has now. _

_ Previously, when she raised her hand, she could summon a gust of wind. If she put enough effort into it, she could knock people down or overturn carts. Now, when she calls the wind, she brings a tornado. Air rushes in through the open windows in a deafening burst. She brings the air to her, letting it spin around and around, then away from her in all directions. The resulting blast throws men, women, and children against the stone walls. Some die on impact, others collapse to the ground and writhe in pain, screaming. _

_ Next, Adel summons her favorite element: fire. It sweeps through the throne room in a rush, causing the machines to spit sparks and then break, causing the humans to spit ashes and then perish. _

_ When everything is burned, she sends away the fire and hops down from her throne. She has used more power in the past few seconds than she has ever wielded in her life, and she had still barely even touched the wealth of potential destruction that lay within her. She crosses the throne room, stepping over charred corpses. Smiling all the while. From outside, she can hear screams as a few survivors desperately flee down the stairs of the tower, running for their lives. _

_ Adel steps out of the throne room, out into the cloudless sunlight, and calls forth lightning from the sky. _

"That's enough!" Ellone said. Instantly, the vision of the past disappeared, leaving Rinoa cold and gasping on the floor of the computer room. She was exhausted, sweating, and slightly nauseated from witnessing the horror Adel had unleashed on her tribe. Whatever tiny amount of pity Rinoa had managed to build up during her trips into Adel's past had been completely obliterated by that single memory of brutality.

Back in Garden, Edea had told Rinoa to always think of other sorceresses as people, not as monsters. Even "evil" sorceresses were still humans, people who had made poor choices in life. But what Rinoa had seen was not simply a poor choice. It wasn't an accident, or a mistake. With all of her being, Adel hated her tribe mates, so she obtained incredible power and then released it upon her people, reveling in their terror and helplessness as she slaughtered them.

(That's not human. That's evil.)

(Maybe other sorceresses can be forgiven, but not Adel.)

(Adel was a monster.)

To help blot out the memory, she focused on the most interesting detail she'd learned from Adel's past: Hyne's Fount. Whatever it was, it had the power to take a fairly ordinary sorceress like Adel and elevate her to the status of a goddess. With the power of Hyne's Fount, Adel had been able to kill her entire tribe, conquer Esthar, and nearly overwhelm the entire world. Surely Rinoa had stumbled upon some massive discovery in Adel's past.

But doubts worried her mind. The memory of Adel in the Centra Ruins was old, possibly decades old. Also, the old woman in the memory seemed to know a great deal about what Hyne's Fount was. It was possible—maybe even likely—that Hyne's Fount was old news in the world. Rinoa imagined herself rushing to talk to Squall and Odine, to share what she'd learned about Hyne's Fount, only to have them both dismiss her, claiming to already know everything about it. To feel—once again—unneeded, unhelpful.

That thought, the fear of looking foolish in front of others, made Rinoa hesitate. She wanted to feel excited about her newfound knowledge, but she tamped her emotions down, to avoid disappointment.

(I should ask Ellone…)

Rinoa opened her eyes and turned her head. Ellone's sat on the chair cushion, her expression distant. She stared at a far corner of the room, her hands in her lap, tugging idly at the white fabric of her dress.

"Have you…" Rinoa said. "Have you ever heard of Hyne's Fount before?"

Ellone paused and thought about it, then shook her head, silently.

"I think…" Rinoa said. She lifted herself into a sitting position. "I think we should tell the others about it. Anyway, I'm done looking into Adel's past. How about you?"

"Yeah…" Ellone said softly. "I'm done. Let's go."

Ellone stood up and extended a friendly hand to help Rinoa back to her feet. Rinoa didn't think she would need the assistance, but when she started to put her legs under her, she found them to be numb and unresponsive, as if she'd cut off the circulation for too long. After a failed attempt to stand on her own, Rinoa gratefully accepted Ellone's hand and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. Once standing, the blood flowed to her extremities again and she recovered her balance.

The pair headed out of the computer room, leaving the soft hum of Esthar's greatest processors behind, and stepped into the hallway. In the hall was another one of the omnipresent circular lifts—the only way back down to the first floor. Rinoa did not understand why O Lab was designed like it was, but then again, she didn't understand much at all about Esthar construction. To her it seemed like the Esthar people deliberately built their city to be unusual, just for the sake of being different from the rest of the world.

Ellone and Rinoa sat down on the circular lift and waited for it to activate. A swirl of light encircled them. The elevator hovered a step above the ground, emitting a soft whine, before smoothly floating down the narrow, featureless hallway.

Rinoa was simultaneously bursting with things to say and speechless at the same time. She felt energized by her experiences, while also horrified by them. She turned to face Ellone, wanting to ask her questions and get a sense of where Ellone stood, but the other girl was silent, distant. Rinoa started to ask a question, her mouth opening to frame the words, but Ellone didn't respond.

Rinoa sighed and wondered to herself if Ellone was unusually sensitive to violence. But then again, Rinoa thought, maybe she was the one who was being insensitive, and Ellone was the one with the normal, rational response. After all, they both just witnessed a massacre, and Rinoa—while unquestionably angry and disgusted by it—had already managed to process the information and move on. The things she'd experienced in the past few weeks as she traveled the world had hardened her. She hadn't noticed the change as it happened, but sitting there next to Ellone, it was obvious to see how different Rinoa had become since leaving Timber and the Forest Owls.

(Am I… going numb?)

That thought terrified Rinoa more than anything. Becoming numb led to indifference. Indifference led to inaction. She knew that she was never going to become a murderous tyrant like Adel or Ultimecia, but if she shut off her feelings, distanced herself from the pain of others, then she would become something almost as bad: a bystander. A person who knows the horrors of the world, yet chooses to do nothing to stop them.

(I won't.)

(I _can't_ stand by and do nothing.)

The elevator reached the end of the hall, flying over the edge of the second floor and hovering high above the first floor. The platform sent down a pillar of light, sensing to see if there were any people or obstacles below it. When it was sure the way was clear, it dropped down to the first floor and landed on the ground with barely more than a thump. Ellone and Rinoa stepped off and headed to the laboratories.

Nothing much had changed in the time since Rinoa and Ellone had left the room. Dr. Odine was still shuffling around his lab, with his awkward gait and his even more awkward clothes, ordering around his technicians and examining endless streams of data. Rinoa found Squall quickly. He was standing next to a computer while a technician was pointing at a series of charts on the screen, apparently explaining their significance to him. Squall nodded thoughtfully. Laguna was nowhere to be seen, probably called away on government business.

Rinoa also saw another person, standing off to the side with his arms crossed. He wore a white lab coat similar the other aides, but the design of the coat and the arrangement of the buttons was different. He had cropped blonde hair, small glasses, and a stern expression on his face that implied that this was a man who rarely smiled. Rinoa felt that he was familiar, somehow, but couldn't remember from where.

(Maybe all Esthar techs just look the same to me.)

Squall noticed the two come in. He straightened up and addressed them. "That was fast."

Rinoa shrugged. "A couple hours, maybe."

Squall narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. A couple of the nearby aides who'd heard the conversation looked up curiously at Rinoa. The stern-looking man off to the side adjusted his glasses and looked at her quizzically. She felt her face grow warm.

(Did I say something dumb?)

She looked to Ellone for validation, but Ellone still seemed lost in her thoughts.

"… Rinoa." Squall said. "How long do you think you two were gone?"

Now a few more aides were glancing up from their work, watching the exchange play out. Her confusion and the increased pressure added by the staring eyes all around her made her mind go blank.

"I… um…" Rinoa said. She didn't know how to answer—or how Squall _wanted_ her to answer—so she spoke the truth. Or, at least, what she believed to be true. "It had to be an hour or two, right?"

Ellone broke her silence. She looked at Rinoa, then at Squall. "Yes. At least an hour."

"It's been fifteen minutes," Squall said. "You can check the clocks if you don't believe me."

(… What?)

The information was more disorienting than anything else. She felt like she'd closed her eyes for a few moments and woken up hours later, only in reverse. She glanced at a clock on the wall and, true to Squall's word, only fifteen or twenty minutes had gone by since the two had left the room.

"That's… weird," Rinoa said. She turned to Ellone. "What happened?"

Ellone shook her head. Worry lines creased her face. "I'm sorry. I don't know. Usually a minute spent in the past is a minute in real time. With all the trips we took into the past it should… it should have…"

She didn't finish the thought. Rinoa turned and saw that Dr. Odine had become interested in the conversation as well. He rubbed his pointed chin and pursed his lips.

"Yes… very curious," Dr. Odine said. "Ellone!" He jabbed a finger at her. "Get in ze machine! We must do new readings. Perhaps your connection power has changed? Maybe ze Lunatic Pandora is involved? We must know!"

Ellone shook her head frantically, as if Dr. Odine was asking her to be flayed alive. Rinoa could see that Ellone was in no mood to have any more tests run on her. She pitied the girl, and regretted dragging her along into Adel's past.

(If I could have done it without her, I would have.)

"No. Not today," Ellone said. "I… really can't do any more tests right now."

Dr. Odine hopped in anger, shaking a fist at Ellone. "You stand in ze way of science!"

"Tomorrow, Doctor," Ellone said, with a respectful bow. "Tomorrow. I promise."

Dr. Odine grumbled and rolled his eyes. But after a moment, he relented and returned to his studies. Squall continued to scrutinize both Ellone and Rinoa, clearly turning some thought over and over in his mind, making Rinoa feel like she'd done something wrong.

It was then that the stern-looking aide in the unusual coat stepped forward. He crossed the room, moving around desks and experiments to get close to the two women. He stood close to Rinoa—uncomfortably close—and adjusted his glasses.

"So did you two learn anything interesting in Adel's past?" he asked.

For a moment, Rinoa considered not saying anything. By that time, she'd all but convinced herself that Hyne's Fount was old news that wouldn't surprise anyone. More than anything, she didn't want to look foolish, especially not in front of Squall.

(But… I don't wanna be a bystander.)

Squall moved away from the experiment he was observing and joined Rinoa, protectively using his body to provide a buffer between Rinoa and the bespectacled aide.

Encouraged by Squall's nearness, Rinoa took a deep breath. Addressing everyone in the room, but mostly Dr. Odine, she asked, "So… has anyone ever heard of Hyne's Fount?"

There was a pause. Machinery hummed, and a nearby printer softly spat out sheets of paper onto a pile. But the scientists themselves made no sounds. Squall narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and the aide next to her raised his eyebrows in amused surprise. All of Dr. Odine's underlings eventually turned and looked to the famous doctor, waiting for his response. Odine shook his head and ignored her.

Rinoa gritted her teeth.

(Dumb question or not, I'm still gonna get an answer.)

"Well? Have you?" Rinoa asked, raising her voice a little. "Anyone?"  
"Bah!" Dr. Odine said. He didn't look at Rinoa, instead focusing on a series of test tubes on a table before him. "Is nonsense tale for babies! Tired mothers tell their children about Hyne's Fount to make them sleep at night. Is junk! Do not disturb ze great Odine with this talk."

And he said no more.

Rinoa had thought she would be embarrassed, being dismissed by the esteemed Dr. Odine, but the first emotion that came to her was not shame, but righteous indignation. She had expected him to say that it was old news, or irrelevant, or to simply ignore her. But she had not been prepared for him to deny its existence entirely. Hyne's Fount was no fairy tale; she had seen it with her own eyes.

(Well, not technically my own eyes, but close enough.)

"We've seen it," Rinoa said. "It's real!" She spun around and looked at Ellone. "Show him, Ellone. Send him to that moment. Prove that it's real, and not just some made-up story for kids."

"Stay out of Odine's head!" the doctor said, spinning around and pointing an threatening finger at Ellone. Ellone winced and looked away. Odine returned to his test tubes, once more forgetting about the girls.

Rinoa grunted in anger. Dr. Odine and the rest of the lab techs resumed their work, completely forgetting Rinoa's question. Only Squall and the stern-looking man still paid them any attention, standing a couple paces away and watching them. She had a feeling that the aide might know something, but something about the man worried Rinoa, and she didn't want to talk to him until she absolutely had to.

(Squall might know.)

She turned to him. "Have you ever heard of Hyne's Fount?"

Squall didn't have to think too long about it. With him, he'd either studied the subject in school and had it instantly ready to recite to the nearest teacher, or he hadn't studied it and didn't know. In either case, he rarely had to waste much time thinking about answers. He shook his head. "No. Why? What did you see?"

Rinoa gave a quick sidelong glance to the stern man. He wasn't standing any closer to her than Squall was, but she still felt crowded by his presence. She took an unconscious step to the side, towards Squall, before she told the story of what she and Ellone had witnessed. Ellone spoke up only at rare intervals, agreeing with Rinoa's statements and adding a little bit of extra description at times, but otherwise leaving the explanation to her.

When she was done, she looked at Squall, then at the stern man. She was glad to see both were lost in thought. Squall looked at the floor, rubbing his chin, while the stern man tented his fingers and gazed upward at the ceiling.

(If they need to think about it, then that means that it's important.)

The stern-looking man was the first to speak. He met Rinoa's gaze, a hint of a smile in his eyes, but nowhere else on his face. "And you are absolutely sure that they called it Hyne's Fount?" he asked. His voice was nasally, and he spoke in an odd accent Rinoa couldn't place. "You didn't mishear them?"

"Yeah," Rinoa said. Ellone agreed.

"I see," the man said. "It seems my trip to O Lab was worthwhile after all."

Rinoa found herself to be annoyed at the man's familiar treatment of her, the way he stood right beside her, speaking as if they were all old friends. She wanted him to go away, stop talking to her, stop breathing her air.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" she asked, not hiding her distaste for him.

"This is Piet, remember?" Squall said. "He was… oh, right. Sorry. He was on the moon base with us. But you probably don't remember any of that, do you?"

Rinoa shook her head.

"I remember you though," Piet said. "I remember you breaking Adel's seal, and nearly killing us all." Rinoa started to object, but he silenced her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't worry, the situation has been explained to me. I know it wasn't really you who did that. Still, that base was my home and I'm a little bitter to see it—and my life's work—all destroyed in an instant."

(Bite me.)

Piet didn't waste any more time complaining about the past. He looked at Squall and Rinoa. "Anyway," he said. "I came down here when I heard that you two were back in Esthar. At first, I only had a couple of general questions for the two of you, but when Squall said you were digging into Adel's past, I became intrigued. And now that you're bringing up Hyne's Fount, I am _very_ intrigued. Very intrigued indeed."

Frustrated by his vague teasing, Rinoa asked, "What is Hyne's Fount? Will someone at least tell me that much?"

Piet shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Dr. Odine and the rest of the lab techs were busy with their work, and paid no attention to the group huddled at the entrance. Still he lowered his voice when he addressed her and the others. "This is a… hostile environment to speak about such matters. Let's find somewhere else, shall we?"

(A hostile environment?)  
With a wave of his hand, he gestured for the group to exit Odine's laboratory and head outside. They moved in a confused cluster, stepping out the doorway and into the hall. When they were outside of the lab, the door automatically slid shut behind them. Rinoa, Squall, and Ellone stopped immediately outside the door, eager to get answers from the lunar scientist, but he motioned for them to continue further.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Odine has some sort of monitoring equipment set up in the hall here," Piet said. "Best go someplace where we are less likely to be overheard. And anyway, after my years on the lunar base, I prefer gazing at wide, open areas when I'm thinking. Not tiny, cramped hallways. Call it a touch of claustrophobia, if you will."

(Is this guy serious?)

Rinoa, Squall, Ellone, and Piet continued down the hall and exited O Lab entirely, finding themselves once more in the blue glass streets of Esthar. The downtown area loomed in the distance, dominated by the absolutely enormous Presidential Palace. A tangle of streets sprawled all around. Cars, people, and transporters flicked about through the city.

Piet took a deep breath and exhaled when he got outside. Then he prompted the others to stop.

"One moment," Piet said. "I need to clear the stench of Odine from my lungs."

Squall ignored his comment and launched into questions immediately. "Why can't we talk in O Lab?"

"Hyne's Fount is a bit of a personal subject for the good doctor," Piet said. "About… say… two decades ago, maybe more, he made his mark on Esthar society by definitively disproving its existence."

Rinoa was taken aback. "But… what… then…"

(I _saw_ it! I know I did!)

(We were _there_!)

She looked to Piet and Squall, trying to convince them that she wasn't crazy or lying. She was about to try to get Ellone to back her up, corroborate her story, when Piet cut her off.

"Let me finish," Piet said. He folded his hands behind his back. "It's quite a story, and I think you should hear the whole tale. Several decades ago, Esthar technology was approaching a ceiling. We had all these designs for new developments, and even new plans for the city itself, but we lacked the resources to realize any of these lofty ideas. Specifically, we lacked the energy to fuel and maintain the technologies we were inventing. So, in desperation, the Esthar government chased down any lead they could find, in their hopes of solving this energy crisis and preventing Esthar from stagnating.

"One of their crazier plans involved Hyne's Fount. It's an old fairy tale, like Odine said, about a legendary supply of infinite energy stored somewhere near the core of the earth. The legends vary, but they all agree on that basic principle. Though it was a long shot, the Esthar government offered a reward to anyone who could prove or disprove the existence of Hyne's Fount.

"Odine—then a young, unknown scientist—earned his reputation by disproving it, with an overwhelming amount of research and data. This discovery—or lack of a discovery, as it were—launched Odine into prominence in the scientific community. From there he easily secured more funding and grants from the government, which he used to emulate Centra technology and solve the energy crisis, thus establishing himself as one of the greatest scientists of our time. Seeing as how he has—almost literally—built his entire career around Hyne's Fount, you can see why he'd be rather sensitive about it."

Squall nodded. Rinoa was about to say something, when Squall offered a follow-up question. "So then why are we even discussing this? Odine proved it doesn't exist."

Rinoa scowled at him for not taking her word for it, but he wasn't looking at her. His attention was focused on the scientist. She pouted in frustration.

(Fine then. Don't believe me.)

Piet looked at him. "Because I believe he's wrong about the Fount. In fact, I believe he's wrong about a great many things. Well, perhaps that's too harsh of me. The man _is_ occasionally brilliant, and this city wouldn't exist without his discoveries. But I am saying he has his flaws."

"So is Hyne's Fount real?" Rinoa asked, hopefully.

"I believe so," Piet said. "In fact, after your story, I'm almost completely convinced it is. You see, Odine's study of the existence of Hyne's Fount coincides with another major event in Esthar's history. Care to hazard a guess as to what the other event is?"

"Adel's arrival in Esthar," Squall said, almost immediately.

Piet nodded and smiled. Even his smile was severe and unfriendly. "Exactly. That was the missing piece in the evidence chain. If Hyne's Fount really does exist, then Odine should have found it, after the extensive research he did into the subject. But somehow he didn't, and I could never figure out why. All his research is sound, so it's not an obvious error on his part. But now, thanks to you, I have a hypothesis: Odine couldn't find it, not because it doesn't exist, but because it _wasn't there_ at the time. Adel had just recently depleted it. All the energy of Hyne's Fount was coursing through her body, which gave her the abnormal power she possessed. Meanwhile, Odine was searching the planet for a power that Adel had taken for herself. It's no wonder he never found it."

Rinoa paused to think about it for a moment. But Squall pressed on for more answers.

"Why are you so sure that Hyne's Fount is real?" Squall asked. "I mean, before Rinoa told you her story. Why did you think Odine was wrong to begin with? You must have had a good reason."

Piet was quick with a reply. "Because of the Lunar Cry," he said. "Monsters carry energy with them. Not only in their physical bodies, but in the para-magic they contain. You've of course noticed that all monsters have magic within them, correct? Where do you think that energy goes when they die? That it just disappears? Of course not. The leading theory—proposed by Odine, and accepted by most everyone—is that the energy is absorbed into the earth, helping grow trees, fuel earthquakes and volcanoes, and is gradually expended over the course of decades or centuries by the natural processes of the planet.

"However, the numbers don't match up. The energy released by a single Lunar Cry is far more than the world uses in natural processes. I've always believed that the excess energy does not get absorbed into the planet, but instead collects together in a mass called 'Hyne's Fount.' Of course, this has made Odine and myself into less than friends, but I refuse to back down. And now, finally, I may be vindicated for my tenacity."

Squall's brow was fiercely creased, in a way even Rinoa was not accustomed to seeing. She'd spent a great deal of time watching him think, but this was beyond anything she'd seen before.

(He's thinking so hard he's going to explode.)

"Wait…" Squall said. He relaxed his brow and looked at Piet. "If you're right… then Hyne's Fount is primed again. We just had a Lunar Cry, and Esthar's military has been killing those monsters by the thousands. So there should be evidence of the Fount's existence again, right?"

Piet snapped his fingers and grinned. "I _like_ you. I like you a lot. Yes, I'm afraid it's good news and bad news. Good news, we can finally prove the existence of Hyne's Fount, and knock old man Odine down a peg."

(You're not so young yourself.)

"But the bad news," Piet said, "If we're right, then that means we're sitting on a time bomb, waiting for someone to set it off. Anyone with the right tools can access the largest collection of pure energy known to humanity. And that's a bit frightening, wouldn't you agree? But first, like any good scientists, we need evidence. We can't just go running through the streets and screaming about Hyne's Fount. We'd be locked up as lunatics. So I need your help."

The others looked at each other, warily. Rinoa didn't know how the others were feeling, but she wasn't eager to lend aid to this man. Although he seemed to be telling the truth, he struck Rinoa as one of those types of people who told the truth only when the truth suited their goals. Rinoa didn't think Piet would have any problems with stabbing them in the back later on, or telling them half-truths to gain their trust. Rinoa had felt the power of Hyne's Fount and seen the impossible amounts of havoc that it could wreck. There was no way she would just hand that power over to someone she'd only met a few minutes ago.

"I understand if you don't trust me," Piet said, apparently sensing her thoughts. "But I am quite literally the only person in the world who is willing and able to prove that Hyne's Fount exists, and spread this information around. Esthar loves their scientists, and if one of us says we have a discovery, then all eyes are on us in a second. You'll need me to not only find the Fount, but to make sure it's used properly."

Piet eyed the group intensely. "The only way to prevent another Adel is to first understand what we're dealing with. If we can harness Hyne's Fount, not only can we keep it out of dangerous hands, but we may even be able to turn it for the good of the world. Energy, by itself, is morally neutral; it only does what it is told. And wouldn't you rather be the ones telling it what to do, than someone else?"

(I don't _want_ to harness its power.)

Sometimes, the worst things in the world were done with the best intentions. Even if Piet was being sincere in his desire to use the Fount for the betterment of humanity, it was too easy—too tempting—to allow their morals to slip. To use the power against people. To hurt, maybe to kill.

But Piet did have a point. Ignoring the Fount entirely would not make it go away. Someone, somewhere, would stumble upon its power, and then they would be entirely at that person's mercy. If they were to have any hope of using the Fount wisely, then they would have to be the first to tap into it.

(This is why I hate arguing with smart people: I always lose.)

Rinoa sighed.

She looked to Squall. He nodded at her, solemnly. She looked to Ellone. Ellone didn't respond right away, but when she saw that Squall had nodded, she nodded as well.

(That's three votes. We have a winner.)

"Fine…" Rinoa said. "What do you need us to do?"


	13. Chapter 13: Perhaps They're Right

_**Chapter 13**_

_**Perhaps They're Right**_

(Quistis)

Quistis' body slammed hard into the passenger side door of the car as it swung a dangerous turn—narrowly dodging a crackling string of gunfire. The forces created by the turn pressed her hard against the door as Artois, her driver, sent the car hurtling between two rows of Galbadian artillery and soldiers. Galbadian bullets struck their target, ricocheting off the armored car with metallic shrieks and pops, but none of the bullets made it through the tough steel plating encasing the vehicle.

(We can't hold this much longer.)

Artois straightened out the wheel, then stood on the gas pedal, sending a spray of dirt from all four tires as the car sped towards the Eastern entrance to Timber. Gunfire from every direction followed in pursuit, sending up bursts of dust around the vehicle.

"COVER!" Quistis yelled to the two SeeD girls in the backseat, straining to be heard above the thunder of bullets and the roar of the engine. Both uniformed girls nodded, then turned in their seats and released the spells they'd prepared in their hands. They aimed at the pursuing Galbadian cars, sending waves of fire and lightning at the vehicles, tearing into them like tin cans.

Although the SeeDs in the Decoy Team were drastically outnumbered and outgunned by the Galbadians, their magic allowed them to remain encased in their vehicles and launch effective counterattacks without reaching outside and exposing themselves to the flurry of bullets that constantly whipped through the air. The magic had greater range and effectiveness as well, as G-Army equipment was built to protect against bullets and artillery—not magic.

(Without the armored cars and magic, this entire mission would have been suicide.)

(It may still prove to be suicide yet…)

The car barreled toward the city entrance, the vehicle's increasing speed pressing Quistis back into her chair, making it hard to move. Between her and the blue arch that welcomed visitors stood hundreds of Galbadian soldiers with rows of military vehicles behind them for support. Artois held down the accelerator, charging headlong towards the ranks. It was a futile attack. Even if the car somehow survived the barrage of gunfire that was sure to come, the sheer mass of soldiers and equipment standing in their way would have forced the car to a stop, leaving them trapped inside, immobile.

Futile or not, the charge was necessary. It was a feint, and an effective one as well. As more and more soldiers rushed to cut off the car's advance, they were forced to abandon other posts, leaving those areas vulnerable to attack. The constant readjustments caused by these feints exhausted the soldiers and confused their ranks, buying more time for the members of the Decoy Team and causing more damage overall to the G-Army.

Quistis knew the Galbadian troops would stand a better chance if they held their ground and didn't pursue the feints, but whoever was in charge of the G-Army's troops hadn't figured that out yet, instead wasting time, effort, and lives falling for the same trick again and again.

(Good for us that they have such poor leadership.)

Artois gripped the wheel in both white-knuckled hands, drawing in a deep breath once the car got into firing range of the entrance to Timber. The Galbadian soldiers let loose with their barrage. The car was well-protected against bullets and small arms, but even the best armor couldn't last forever. The narrow windshield formed an obvious weak spot as well. Although the glass had been reinforced, it could only withstand a few bullets before it too would fail them.

A lucky bullet caught the corner of the windshield, sending a circular web of cracks across the glass in front of Quistis. Another bullet found the glass. Then another, and another. More and more as the car grew closer. Artois had to lean forward in his chair, struggling to peer through the sections of the glass that weren't breaking. A few more hits and the windshield would shatter entirely, leaving them naked and exposed to gunfire.

(We can't get any closer!)

"TURN!" Quistis said. Artois cranked the wheel again, once more sending Quistis hard into the passenger side door. She gritted her teeth against the pain and the pressure of the turn as Artois spun a quick ninety-degree turn. The two girls in the back gripped to whatever was available, trying desperately not to fly into the walls of the car.

Artois straightened the wheel, baring the broad side of the vehicle to the soldiers. Now presented with a larger target, the Galbadians were able to land many more hits, the gunfire popping along the side of the car like hail. But the armored car had no windows on the sides, only a front windshield and a narrow slit in the back. Although the Galbadians were peppering the car, there weren't any weaknesses on the side, and the damage caused was trivial.

When the G-forces of the turn finally released her, Quistis turned in her seat and ordered the two girls behind her to begin laying waste to the Galbadian defensive line with all of their magic. Spell after spell hit the long Galbadian line, sending soldiers flying with wind spells or freezing them with ice. Quistis added some of her own magic as well, hurling out the powerful spells she'd accumulated in her travels, taking massive chunks out of the Galbadian line with fiery explosions and earthquakes.

Quistis spun in her chair to peer out the narrow slit of the back window. As planned, the feint had opened up a weak spot on the northernmost part of the Galbadian defenses. Two more SeeD armored cars saw this and rushed towards the opening, forcing the Galbadians to hurry and scramble to fend them off.

The plan was working to perfection, but it still wasn't enough. Every wave of Galbadians taken down by magic, or every platoon shuffled from one spot to another seemed to do nothing to diminish the strength of the Galbadians. More and more soldiers and vehicles flooded out of Timber, replacing every fallen Galbadian with two more, fresh and ready for combat.

(How can there be so many?)

Two Galbadian cars rushed out of Timber, through the G-Army line, and pursued Quistis' car. The armor on Quistis' car slowed it considerably, and the lightweight Galbadian cars were gaining fast.

"Two cars behind!" Quistis yelled. "Earth magic!"

The girls in back nodded and spun around. Working together, they opened a long, narrow crack in the ground, like a small canyon. They timed it perfectly, leaving no room for the pursuing cars to brake or dodge around. Both vehicles plunged nose-first into the crevasse and disappeared.

(Where is Garden?)

The attack wasn't meant to last this long. It was only a diversion, a ploy to get the Galbadians to commit to Timber's East Side and allow the real mission to take place on the West. Quistis, Xu, and the Headmaster had run through this scenario dozens of times, meticulously planning out how long the mission should last in any and all circumstances. Even in their worst-case-scenarios, the diversion only needed to last a few minutes. Quistis had lost track of time, but surely much more than the allotted time had elapsed.

(Did something happen to Garden?)

Quistis didn't want to think about that. If Garden had become disabled, then she and everyone else in the Decoy Team would either die or be captured. There was no possibility of escape, because there was nowhere to fall back to without Garden. To the south and east, the sea blocked all retreat, and the northern path led back into the heart of Galbadia. Without Garden to carry them all back into the ocean, there was nowhere to run.

Unless Garden was only moments away, there was no hope at all. Quistis clenched her jaw and kept fighting, betting everything on the hope that Garden was coming soon.

"Drive us to the flanks!" Quistis said to Artois. "Start preparing for the retreat!"

Artois nodded and angled the car to the left, heading to the outermost ring of the battle.

SeeD only had a handful of armored cars at their disposal: not nearly enough to mount an effective or a credible attack. So they commissioned almost all of their civilian models into the battle as well, but positioned them on the outskirts of the battle, always moving, always throwing spells to keep them as safe as possible. Galbadian bullets would cut through the civilian cars like paper, so their only protection was speed, magic, and fancy driving.

Far beyond the walls of Timber, in the Lanker Plains—between the city and the sea—numerous dogfights were taking place as Galbadian military vehicles chased down civilian cars loaded with SeeDs who were frantically hurling magic of every kind and color. For the first time since the beginning of the fight, Artois had to relax the accelerator, slowing down to weave between the corpses of ruined Galbadian cars as well as massive cracks in the earth formed by the SeeDs' magic.

Fires blazed unchecked in the fields, rushing across the dry grass, devouring it greedily. Patches of ice slowly melted in the hot summer afternoon and lightning crackled in the sky, despite the cloudless weather. The cacophony of magic and bullets formed a steady white noise in the background, like static.

"Look for any SeeDs," Quistis said. Artois and the other two girls nodded, and began looking front and back, searching for any wrecked SeeD vehicles or any uniformed SeeDs left stranded in the battlefield. So far, Quistis only saw Galbadian vehicles and soldiers.

(I hope that's all I see…)

As she scanned, she caught a glimpse of the ocean to the south. There, like a blue mountain, approached Garden, cutting through the waves. Quistis couldn't contain herself.

"YES!" she said. She clapped her hands once. "Artois! Prepare the retreat! Garden is here!"

"WOOOO!" Artois hooted. He was immediately joined by the two girls behind them. Quistis was excited too, though she knew that this part of the mission—the escape—could prove tricky. Since they were in one of the armored cars, it was their responsibility to form a defensive perimeter, allowing the civilian cars to make good their escape. As such, Quistis, Artois, and the two girls would be throwing themselves in the middle of the worst of the fighting.

(Still, the mission is going as planned. That's good.)

Quistis focused on her hands, drawing up a magic spell to signal the retreat. Amidst the chaos and gunfire and magic, it would be hard to discern any one solitary spell from all the myriad of others. So Quistis had to draw upon something unique, powerful, and rare. She gathered the glowing red energy of the flare spell into her hands, then looked up and hurled it into the sky.

Red light streaked from the car and burst in the air, forming something between a bomb explosion and a second sun. It erupted into a sphere of intense, screaming heat, igniting both the air around it and the grass below. For a few moments, the world went red as the spell consumed everything around it and eclipsed even the light of the sun. Quistis squinted against the terrible red light, hoping they didn't crash into anything in their moment of blindness. A second later, the sound wave hit the car, shaking the armored plating and rattling the cracked glass. Even above the din of gunfire and magic, that explosion would be heard and seen everywhere in the fields.

The spell faded away and Artois charged north, once more putting his full weight on the accelerator. A dozen cracks laced the windshield, but he raced bravely onward despite the limited visibility. Quistis could barely see from her side of the window, but Artois had enough vision left to dodge the obstacles in his path as he cut through the battlefield.

A SeeD car, a little blue sedan filled with students sped to the south, eager to retreat from the doomed battle. A red car, then another blue car followed after. A few seconds later, Quistis spied a Galbadian car in pursuit of the escaping vehicles.

(Oh, no you don't.)

Quistis, exhausted from the battle, summoned what little energy she had left to draw up an earth spell. She chucked it at the Galbadian car, opening up a nice, deep grave for the car to fall into and disappear. She heard the satisfying crunch as the G-Army car crashed into the earth.

As they continued north, they passed more escaping SeeDs and more pursuing Galbadians. Quistis and her two support girls in the back leveled all pursuit with earth and fire, ensuring that the other students would have a clear path to Garden. A few Galbadians tried to attack Quistis' armored car, but she and her fellow passengers were rejuvenated by the appearance of Garden and fought with renewed frenzy, tearing apart any and all G-Army attackers as soon as they made the error of coming in range.

Quistis was numb from exhaustion, pain, and battle lust. She felt dizzy and lightheaded and a little insane. Still, enough of her senses remained, urging her to remain cautious and keeping her from totally losing her mind in the fury of the moment.

(Pay attention. Focus. Don't make any dumb mistakes now.)

After a minute or two of rushing north, they finally reached the edge of the battlefield. Here, the ruts torn by dozens of tires thinned and disappeared, the fire and earth faded as well. The Galbadians—perhaps knowing that they had won the battle, or maybe not willing to tangle with the brute force of the whole Garden now that it had joined the fray—abandoned pursuit and spun around, fleeing back towards Timber. Quistis considered sending them some magic to hasten their departure, but let the G-Army go.

"Alright," Quistis said, scanning the horizon, looking for the G-Army and any straggling SeeDs. "We can go now."

"Yes, ma'am!" Artois said excitedly. He turned around, much more gently this time, and headed back south. In the distance, the blue mass of Garden drew ever closer.

(Getting closer to home.)

Weary beyond words, Quistis slumped back into the passenger seat. Everyone else in the car relaxed as well. Reality began to sink in, and all the aches and pains in her body suddenly demanded her attention. She winced, sore all over, but fought to maintain her stoic expression. She never knew it was possible to become so utterly exhausted without ever leaving the car.

(Show no weakness. You're the Lieutenant Commander.)

Quistis bit back her pain and turned around, peering out the back window. There was no pursuit. She glanced at the two girls. Both were recent SeeD graduates who'd earned their ranks only a couple months prior. She didn't remember their names and felt too embarrassed to ask. They looked as weary as Quistis felt.

"You two okay?" Quistis asked. She did her best to act soldierly, to project an aura of calm, confident strength. She couldn't tell how effective her efforts were.

They both nodded.

"Are all battles like that?" the girl on the left asked.

"Hmm… yes and no," Quistis said. Most of Quistis' heavy combat experience had come in the previous few weeks, hardly qualifying her as a seasoned veteran. Still, she did her best to act knowledgeable. "They're all exhausting, but in different ways. This battle was a bit unorthodox for SeeD, but it's always wise to be prepared for anything."

The girls seemed satisfied with her response. Quistis turned around and sunk into her chair. In front of them, Garden had touched down to earth, allowing the driveway leading to the parking lot to rest on the ground. A steady stream of cars headed up the ramp and filed into the parking lot. Quistis tried to count them, but there were too many. All the SeeD vehicles were riddled with bullet holes, their windows cracked or shattered. Many were running on one or more flat tires. One car had broken its rear axle and limped feebly up the ramp, spraying sparks in all directions.

Artois and the other armored cars were last up the ramp. He drove down the long road, entering into the dim glow of the parking lot. It was a relief, being out of the sunlight. Once all the cars were inside, the Garden lifted off and turned south towards the ocean.

(I could fall asleep in this chair right now.)

Artois found an open parking spot and pulled the vehicle into it. He engaged the parking brake, and, with an air of finality, turned off the engine. A moment of heavy silence passed. Quistis listened to the tinny ringing in her ears and rubbed at one of the many aches in her body.

"Well… we made it," Artois said.

"Let's see how well the others fared," Quistis said.

She opened the passenger side door and almost fell out of her chair. She had the will and the desire to walk, but her legs were beaten, limp noodles—simultaneously numb and pained. She braced herself against the car to support her weight. With the adrenaline from the battle draining out of her, she became more and more aware of her screaming muscles, and the bruises and scrapes along her body from all her crashing around inside the car. She felt two lines of pain searing across her torso from where the car's seatbelt had embraced her in a death grip during Artois' frantic turns.

(Come on, Q, toughen up. You're not even hurt.)

She drew in a deep breath and forced her feet to walk. They protested with every step, but she was deaf to their cries. She held her head up high, fighting fatigue as she stepped into the middle of the parking lot. She smelled the sharp odor of gasoline, more than was usual for the parking lot.

(A lot of the cars are probably leaking fluid.)

(We'll need a mechanic team in here ASAP.)

The other members of the Decoy Team began huddling around her, forming a large, disorganized circle.

Quistis took a deep breath, then addressed the crowd. "Form into squads, one through thirty, all along here." She gestured along the row of battered cars. As quickly as their tired bodies could, the SeeDs arranged in their groups, forming one long unbroken line of students. There were no gaps that she could see.

(We didn't lose any squads?)

Quistis was overjoyed when she saw the continuous line. Not only had they made it through the battle without losing a squad, they didn't seem to have lost a single student. If that was the case, then the battle had gone perfectly.

(It's too good to be true.)

With a sense of dread, she realized that she'd only ordered the students to arrange themselves in order, but had not told them to leave room for missing squads. Until she did a head count, she wouldn't know if any were lost.

She had to be sure.

"Squad leaders, count off!" she ordered.

The driver for the first squad yelled, "Squad One!" followed by the second squad leader yelling, "Squad Two!" and so on down the line.

It got to Squad Eleven before it got bad.

"Squad Eleven!" the leader yelled. And there was a pause. A deathly, sickening pause, before the next leader in line said weakly, "… Squad Thirteen."

(Damn it!)

"Where's Squad Twelve?" Quistis said. She looked up and down the row. "Squad Twelve, respond!"

There was no answer. The SeeDs looked up and down their ranks, hoping someone would either respond, or give news of Squad Twelve's whereabouts. No one said anything. Quistis sighed.

"Finish counting off," she said. The SeeDs resumed from Squad Thirteen, counting off all their members. Squad Twenty-Eight failed to report in as well, but they were the only other squad to do so. Quistis knew that for such a dangerous and difficult mission, losing only two squads was actually quite impressive.

(But that is still two squads more than I'm willing to lose.)

Quistis bit her lip. They had planned for this. Together in Cid's office, they had drawn up the battle plans and prepared for a situation in which Squads failed to return, with no one hearing any news from them. She knew what she had to do next, but it pained her to go through the steps.

"Dismissed," she said to the students. There was little the students could do to help at this point, and holding them in the parking lot served no purpose. They filed out, heading back into the school, while Quistis returned to the armored car. In all the excitement of battle, she'd forgotten that she had brought one of Garden's new radios.

Artois and the two support girls lingered, watching Quistis. She would have preferred if they left with the others, so that Quistis would be permitted to have a least a moment to herself, a moment to let her guard down, but they were as worried as she was, and she didn't have the heart to send them away.

She opened the passenger door and dug around beneath her seat, pulling out a satchel. Inside was a gray brick with an antenna. She had never officially been trained to use an old radio before, so it took her a few moments of fumbling around before she managed to dial in Nida's number.

"Come in," she said, being careful not to reveal any sensitive information, in case Galbadia was tapping into their frequency. She leaned against the side of the car, using her fingertips to idly trace the hundreds of bullet-dents left in its frame.

(There are so many…)

"Here," Nida responded. He, like Quistis, knew to keep the conversation as short and direct as possible. No wasted words, no unnecessary information.

"Do a sweep," Quistis said. "Two no-shows."

There was a pause, then Nida responded, sadly, "Aye aye."

Quistis set the radio down, feeling as Garden spun around, heading back north. The Galbadians had already retreated, so she doubted they'd run afoul of another attack. She knew she should probably go back up to the bridge to help oversee the rest of the mission, but her body cried out for a few moments of rest. She leaned her forehead against the warm metal of the armored car and shut her eyes. Artois and the other two were watching, but she didn't care.

She had her eyes closed for only a minute, it seemed, before the radio crackled to life.

"No sign," he said. "Repeat, no sign."

Incredulous, Quistis raised her head and brought the radio to her mouth. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," Nida said. "Another sweep?"

Quistis was about to say yes, do as many sweeps as necessary, before she remembered that the safety and security of Garden was paramount. Sooner or later, Galbadia would send out a team to attack Garden. If one of them scored a lucky hit and disabled the school, then SeeD was finished, and the entire operation would be a failure. Garden was large and intimidating, but not built for combat.

Still, Quistis found it hard to believe that there was no sign at all of the two missing squads. No abandoned vehicles, no bodies. Nothing. But she trusted Nida. If he said there was no sign, then she believed him.

(We just have to hope the two squads are in hiding somewhere.)

"No," Quistis said. "Continue as planned."

She let go of the radio, letting it drop on the roof of the armored car. Despite a nearly perfect mission, she felt like a failure and a coward.

The afternoon sun poured down through the skylight and splashed across the marble floor of Headmaster Cid's office. The cadets from the Support Team had been judged on their skills and merits in combat, and those who were deemed to have passed the Field Exam now stood in a neat row of seven before the Headmaster's desk. Quistis was glad to see Ami, Zell's girlfriend, standing among their ranks.

(Zell will be happy to see that when he gets back.)

Quistis stood behind the Headmaster's desk along with Nida, Edea, and Mireya. They were all, except for Edea, dressed in their SeeD uniforms and standing at attention. Quistis couldn't help but notice the fact that eight SeeDs had been lost—two squads of four each—while only seven were replacing them.

The Headmaster, in a somber tone of voice appropriate for the situation, addressed the newest SeeD graduates.

He cleared his throat. "To be a SeeD means to be a fighter. SeeDs fight… and sometimes they die. Today was no exception. We still carry the hope that our two missing squads will show up somewhere, but we must be prepared to accept reality if they do not. If you have any doubts about becoming a SeeD, this is your absolute last chance to back out. I would understand if you chose not to accept this duty… this burden."

His eyes scanned across the cadets. None of them moved, or even flinched. He nodded, a mixture of approval and seriousness in his face.

"Good," he said. He turned to his desk and grabbed a stack of seven envelopes, each with a cadet's name printed on the front. "I hereby welcome each of you to SeeD, and I look forward to working with you all."

He went down the line, handing each new SeeD an envelope containing his or her rank and duty file, shaking hands, and whispering individual advice to each student.

That was one of the many things Quistis truly admired about the Headmaster. He honestly cared about each and every student at Garden and got to know them on a deep, personal level. His advice on graduation day was often very wise and encouraging. Even then, Quistis still recalled what he had whispered to her the day she graduated.

("You're going to be one of the greatest SeeDs we've ever seen.")

At the time, she had believed him wholeheartedly. Back then, her future was bright, and everything was going her way. Now, years later, she questioned his initial judgment of her. Even though she had risen to the rank of Lieutenant Commander of SeeD, she still couldn't shake the feeling that she was failing SeeD, disappointing the Headmaster, and proving to be nothing more than a letdown.

But this moment wasn't about her and her doubts; it was about the recent SeeD graduates. Instead of rolling in self-pity, she needed to be congratulating the students. She pushed her feelings away, allowing herself to think only of them, not herself.

(I hope we have a chance to throw a nice Graduation Ball for them.)

Cid worked his way to the end of the line, handing out the last document, shaking the last hand, whispering the last advice. He returned to his desk, stood before the seven new additions to the fellowship of SeeD, and smiled.

"Welcome to SeeD," he said. Still smiling, he turned to Quistis. She nodded at him, then addressed the students.

"Welcome," she repeated. "Be on standby for your first official orders as SeeDs. Until then, you are dismissed."

In perfect unison, all seven snapped off flawless salutes. Quistis, Nida, and Mireya returned the salutes, then dropped them. The seven students, now beaming, excitedly headed back for the elevator, chatting amongst each other.

When the graduates were all out of the office, Cid allowed his smile to fade as he turned to Quistis.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the two lost squads," the Headmaster said. "In truth, I had… we all had braced ourselves for much greater losses. The fact that we only lost two squads in one of the riskiest and most dangerous maneuvers SeeD has ever undertaken is not a failure on your par. It is a testament of your strength, courage, leadership, and wisdom. I am saddened, yes, but more than that, I am proud to know that the three of you grace our halls. Quistis, Nida, Mireya… you all did fantastic work today. Never forget that. You're all dismissed."

The three saluted once more, then dispersed. Nida headed up the lift to the bridge to resume piloting the Garden. Mireya and Quistis silently walked to the elevator, Quistis' eyes focused on the floor.

(Nida didn't lose anyone. Neither did Mireya.)

The only casualties in the entire mission came from Quistis' Decoy Team. Granted, her mission was the most dangerous of them all, but that fact still weighed heavily on her. Nida and Mireya had brought all their students back safely to Garden. Some of Mireya's soldiers were wounded in the escape, but Dr. Kadowaki made assurances that everyone was expected to make full recoveries.

The Team Leaders got into the elevator. Of the three, Quistis was the only one with a tarnished record.

(I couldn't protect them.)

Quistis sat in the cafeteria, staring at the untouched hamburger and fries on her plate. She needed food. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew that starving herself would only weaken her. Yet every time she thought about reaching for the burger, she stopped herself. She couldn't eat.

(There's a difference between being willing to fight and die, and being willing to send others out to fight and die for you.)

They had planned the mission anticipating casualties and losses. Cid and Xu ran through various scenarios, planning out what would be an expected level of casualties for each situation. And, according to their predictions, the actual number of losses was still below all but the most optimistic forecasts. But expected losses were not the same as acceptable losses. Not to Quistis. To her, any loss was a failure.

(Maybe I'm not cut out to lead.)

She picked up a fry and used it to push around the other fries on the plate. Irvine and Selphie were gone. Squall and Rinoa were gone. And now Zell and Xu were gone. Everyone Quistis could have gone to, confided in, asked for help, were all beyond her reach. She was struggling with the most difficult questions of her life, and she didn't even have a friend to talk it over with. Her position as Commander alienated her from the rest of Garden, making her feel totally lost and alone in a room full of people.

There was still the Headmaster and Edea. But Quistis wondered if either of them could ever truly be honest with her. She'd grown up in their orphanage and later, in their school. Cid and Edea raised her and were the closest things to parents that Quistis had ever known. Could she really trust her adoptive family to be objective? She knew she could rely on them for support, guidance, and encouragement, but she didn't want those things.

(I want someone to tell me the truth.)

(What does everyone _really_ think of me?)

She didn't want to step down as Commander. She knew that she couldn't. Not then. SeeD needed a Commander, and to shuffle leadership around in the middle of one of SeeD's biggest operations would be disastrous. But still, a part of her wished that the others would get together and force her out of office. That Cid and Matron would take a hard look at Quistis' record and decide maybe, just maybe, Quistis wasn't the right person to be SeeD Commander after all.

Then Quistis could step down—not gracefully, not honorably—but harmlessly at least. She could go back to being an instructor, teaching classes. She wouldn't have to worry about other people living or dying based on her decisions. She wouldn't have to calculate how many losses were acceptable or unacceptable. She could go back to following orders and only worrying about herself and her friends.

(Am I a coward for feeling this way?)

(Or am I a fool for not realizing this sooner?)

Maybe that was the additional factor that she lacked, the one that allowed Squall to achieve his great leadership ability. In addition to all his other qualities, there was a coldness, a distance in his thoughts and actions that separated him from others, even his closest friends. Because of this mental wall, he could make the hard decisions. And he could make them again and again without breaking down.

She wondered, did he ever doubt himself, the way Quistis doubted herself?

(I don't think so.)

Squall knew what had to be done. And he knew the dangers and the consequences, yet he accepted them. Quistis had always thought of herself as a calm, calculating person. But when the numbers on paper became lives in the field, she lost that element. She wanted—she _needed_—someone else there to make the decisions for her and to take the blame in her place. To shoulder the weight of an "acceptable loss" and consider it a victory.

(Now I know the truth…)

(… I'm both a coward _and_ a fool.)

Disgusted with herself, Quistis grabbed her tray, the food still uneaten, and marched over to the garbage. As she angled the tray to dump her meal in the trash, she grimaced. No sense wasting food because of a silly emotional breakdown. That would be childish. She scanned the nearest tables, seeing if anyone looked hungry. The meals were free to students, but Xu had put in a strict food-rationing plan once Garden became mobile, limiting everyone to three meals a day. They didn't want to run out of supplies while adrift at sea.

She found a table next to the garbage filled with young, muscular cadets. She approached the table and set her tray down. They looked at her questioningly.

"Anyone want my food?" she asked. "I didn't touch it."

The boys' eyes lit up. "Sure!" the nearest one said, grabbing the hamburger and immediately tearing off a mouthful. The other two boys yanked the tray over to their side of the table and began scrambling for the fries.

"Thanks, Commander," one of the boys said as he grabbed a handful of fries.

"Don't mention it," Quistis said, before turning and leaving the cafeteria.

She walked around the central ring of Garden, passing several students. Classes were temporarily suspended while the operation was in progress, but there was still much to be done to ensure that Garden was ready for the next phase. This battle had only been the first move in what would likely be a long and costly war. Things had gone their way so far, but would they always be so fortunate?

In the dormitories, two separate visitor's rooms had been cleared out and repurposed as the new offices for the Commander and the Lieutenant Commander. Quistis looked at the two plain wooden doors and read the bronzed plaques that had been placed on each.

"_Squall Leonhart: SeeD Commander."_

And on the door to the right, "_Quistis Trepe: Lieutenant Commander_."

She stared at the plaque that bore her name, sighed, and opened the door to her office. Inside, the bed and nightstand that came standard with every dorm had been taken out and put into storage. The main living area was now dominated by a wooden desk. It wasn't nearly as large and elaborate as the Headmaster's desk upstairs, but it carried an air of authority and simplicity that Quistis appreciated. A number of documents were spread across her desk: memos and charts that required her attention.

Although Quistis had serious doubts about her leadership abilities, she knew that she could handle paperwork easily enough. She closed the door behind her and went around her desk, sitting in her wheeled office chair. If she couldn't solve her emotional problems, she would bury them in work until she forgot about them.

(Not an ideal solution, but an effective one nonetheless.)

She grabbed a pen and pulled a sheet of paper off the stack in the corner. It was a document detailing the specifics about the seven new SeeD graduates, their incoming ranks, their weapon specialties, and any other relevant details. Quistis was surprised that the Headmaster had written it up so quickly, but then, he always did have a knack for filing paperwork.

She pulled her glasses out of her desk drawer, placed them on her face, leaned forward in her chair, and began to read.

The sun was nearing the horizon, and almost all the documents that required her signature had been signed. Forms that needed filling out had been carefully finished. Supply requests had been answered. Grievances had been heard. Requests for changing positions, notices of raising or lowering certain SeeD's ranks, and the plans for the upcoming SeeD Graduation Ball all crossed Quistis' desk and were completed.

She just finished reading a document about the new and improved SeeD administration. They were very close to filling all the gaps in the leadership left behind after the departure of the Garden Faculty, and the most crucial roles were now occupied, leaving only a few positions left vacant. One spot that still needed to be filled was "Official Test Grader," a person who would check over the SeeD written rank exams and pass or fail them. It had never occurred to Quistis that such a job even existed.

(I guess someone has to do it.)

She wrote down the names of students she recommended for the job, and placed the file in a stack to be returned to the Headmaster. The next document on her to-do list was larger than the others, and more worrisome. It was a letter from the Headmaster, detailing the current state of the informants in Timber. Quistis read the paper, her eyes narrowing in thought as she went along.

Years ago, when Garden was first getting on its feet, Headmaster Cid had accepted a routine mission from the Galbadian government. The exact details of the mission were long forgotten, but Quistis knew from her study of SeeD history that it had to do with clearing monsters from a village on the fringe of the country.

The contract between SeeD and Galbadia had been signed, and SeeDs were dispatched to the location. However, when SeeD arrived, they found that, instead of being up against monsters, they were instead being ordered to wipe out a Timber rebellion cell that had taken shelter in the village. An argument had broken out about whether this deception violated the terms of the contract, or if SeeD was still obligated to follow orders, since Galbadia had paid for their services in advance. In the confusion, a battle broke out between the rebels, the Galbadians, and the SeeDs, resulting in numerous casualties on all sides.

From that day on, Cid knew that he couldn't rely entirely on intelligence provided by clients, since clients were often biased against SeeD. By lying about the details of missions, clients could negotiate cheaper prices from the mercenaries, and SeeD wouldn't know about the trickery until the mission was already underway.

To balance the scales, NORG suggested that they set aside a certain amount of SeeD's income to paying off civilian informants around the world. Soon, SeeD had a network of several hundred clandestine informants, providing intelligence for Garden in exchange for money and ensuring that SeeD never had to accept a mission purely on faith.

But now, as Quistis read in Cid's report, there was a problem. Because communications had been cut off with Timber, SeeD could no longer pay their informants in the area. Consequently, their sources were drying up, as the citizens of Timber went underground, no longer taking the risk of communicating with SeeD. It was resulting in a large information blind spot in the region, in the midst of an important battle.

(This is a problem…)

Her reading was interrupted by the chiming of the intercom. Nida's voice came over the speakers in her office.

"Will Lieutenant Commander Quistis please report to the second floor balcony immediately. Thank you," he said before shutting off that intercom.

Quistis frowned in thought. The balcony was a very unusual place for her to be summoned. Nevertheless, an order was an order, and Quistis obeyed. She set aside her reading, took off her glasses, and pushed away from her desk. She gave a quick check of herself to make sure her uniform was up to standard, then left her office and headed for the elevator.

She got off at the second floor and walked down the long, curving hallway. The classrooms she passed were empty and dark. She arrived at the end of the hall and pushed open the heavy metal door. The sounds of the sea and the warm salt air pushed through the threshold, greeting her. She took a moment to appreciate the fresh air as she climbed the steps to find out why she was being called to the balcony, of all places.

There, near the edge of the balcony, stood Headmaster Cid, Mireya, and a Galbadian officer, accompanied by two G-Soldiers.

(They've found us!)

"Headmaster!" Quistis said. Reflexively, she grabbed for her whip, but found the clip at her waist to be empty. Her weapon was in her office, coiled on a hook on the wall. Immediately she transitioned to magic, calling up a spell in her fist.

"No, Quistis," the Headmaster said. He took a step towards her and held up his hands. "Stand down. They mean no harm."

(What?)

Galbadians meaning no harm to SeeD was a contradiction in terms, as far as Quistis was concerned. Even if they were offering peace now, she knew they would only do so in order to cause greater damage in the future. While she did blame herself for the loss of the SeeDs in the mission, she had no illusions about who the actual villains were. The G-Army had been the ones in the military vehicles, they had fired the bullets at the students. Whatever blame could be placed on her, ten times more could be laid on the Galbadians.

Seething inside, Quistis relaxed her hand and let the spell dissipate. Unless they were proposing the end of hostilities in Timber with no conditions, Quistis wasn't particularly interested in anything they had to say.

(Still, it's my duty to hear them out.)

She looked at the officer and the two soldiers. They were all unarmed. The officer held a small gray box in his hand, which Quistis recognized as an old military radio, the same make and model that SeeD was now using to stay in touch with the Contact Team in Timber.

Cautiously, she approached the group, still tense and ready for battle. She noticed that Mireya stood nearby, with her saber strapped to her waist. If the Galbadians tried anything, Quistis was confident that she and Mireya could take them down.

"They came up on us from behind," Cid said, shrugging. "By the time we saw them, they were on top of us. Luckily, Nida saw that they were flying a truce banner, otherwise we would have started another fight."

(We'll need to keep a better watch. Next time we might not be so lucky.)

"You are the SeeD Commander?" the officer said stiffly.

"Yes," Quistis said. Technically, she was only the Lieutenant Commander, but she did not want to offer the Galbadians any information they didn't need to know, even something as minor as her exact rank.

"General Caraway wishes to offer a final peace agreement between SeeD and Galbadia," the officer continued. He reached forward, offering the radio to Quistis. "He's on the other end of the frequency. Push the button to talk."

(Why another peace agreement? He's being awfully lenient.)

Still doubtful, Quistis took the radio. She pointed the speaker at herself and found the "TALK" button. She pressed it and brought the radio to her mouth.

"This is Commander Quistis," she said. "I understand you're offering a peace agreement?"

She released the button and waited for his reply. It came a moment later.

"Yes," his deep voice said. She recognized it immediately. "With conditions."

Quistis closed her eyes and smiled humorlessly.

(Of course. Conditions.)

She had no intention of honoring any deals with Galbadia, but it would be madness to spit in the face of a possible peace agreement without at least hearing the terms. Though it pained her—almost physically—to do it, she responded to the General.

"Name them," she said. She already suspected what the General would propose.

"SeeD is to withdraw all troops from the Galbadian continent, including Timber and the surrounding areas," he said. "You are to cease aiding and abetting the Timber sorceress and maintain no lines of contact with her, her organization, or any of the Timber resistance members until the conclusion of this matter."

Quistis wondered when exactly "the conclusion of this matter" would be, but she decided not to ask.

"And what are you offering in return?" Quistis asked.

"We will forgive you for this momentary indiscretion," he said. "We will not seek retaliation against SeeD for the loss of Galbadian lives, nor will we ask for any kind of monetary recompense. SeeD will be allowed to continue existing and operating as it always has, without any form of Galbadian interference. In addition, we will remove our occupying force from the city of Balamb and extend to you a counter offer. Whatever Timber is paying you for your services, we will offer five times the amount for you to come to our side instead. That is my offer."

(The arrogance!)

The General's worldview was truly warped if he thought those were acceptable terms. The things he said, and the way he phrased them made a flush of hot anger spread through Quistis' body. She had to fight to keep it from showing in her body language or her face.

Galbadia was the one that was wrong. It was not SeeD who needed to seek forgiveness for their "momentary indiscretion." And the city of Balamb was not a bargaining chip to be liberated as a reward for SeeD's cooperation. Anyone with any morals would realize that Galbadia was the one who needed to withdraw and seek forgiveness. SeeD's only crime was coming to the aid of the underdog in a one-sided war.

Quistis smashed down the "TALK" button as hard as she could and brought the radio back to her mouth, keeping her voice even. "I am sorry, those conditions are unacceptable."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the Headmaster smile and nod, approvingly. Next to him stood Mireya, shock and outrage spreading across her face. Mireya soon realized her mouth was gaping, and she regained her composure, snapping her jaw shut. But still, Quistis could see the anger in her eyes. Quistis stared back at her, unmoving.

(You cannot possibly think that I'd accept those terms, can you?)

(After all that's happened?)

"Then the war will continue," General Caraway said, his voice crackling over the speaker for all to hear. "And when we crush Timber, we will come for SeeD next. There will be no further peace offerings between us. Do you understand?"

Quistis pushed the button again. Coldly, she said, "I understand those conditions, and I accept."

"Very well," General Caraway said. Before Quistis could hand the radio back to the officer, the General's voice hissed over the speaker one more time. "I apologize, I almost forgot. I do have one more thing to offer, to hopefully change your mind and spare further bloodshed between us."

Reluctantly, Quistis brought the radio back to her mouth.

"What are you offering?" she asked.

(Whatever it is, I don't want it.)

"We have come into the possession of eight SeeDs," Caraway said. Quistis' heart stopped. "Prisoners of war, captured from the field east of Timber. They are unharmed and will be returned to you in the same condition we found them, should you choose to accept my offer."

(They're not dead!)

A momentary thrill of elation passed through Quistis. The blood on her hands was washed away, knowing the SeeDs still lived. But the guilt of losing them in the first place was not assuaged. Those SeeDs were not dead, true, but they were far from being safe. Quistis had spent some time in the D-District prison herself, and knew personally Galbadia's harsh treatment of its prisoners.

(They're not dead, but they may as well be, until we can get them out.)

What had seemed so clear a moment before now became obscured again. The brash arrogance of the Galbadian General had made it easy for Quistis to refuse his peace offer and prolong the conflict. But now, his newest offer changed everything. By accepting it, Quistis could walk away from the battle with no faults on her record. The SeeDs she thought had been led to their deaths would return safely to Garden, ready to fight in some other conflict. It could be as if the battle had never taken place.

If she refused, she would leave those imprisoned SeeDs to the mercy—what little mercy there was—of the Galbadian military. It would be like sacrificing them a second time.

But to accept his offer would mean abandoning the lofty ideals that had brought them into the conflict in the first place. Quistis, Xu, and the others had agreed to this battle because they believed it was morally right. It didn't make financial sense, and it was by far the riskier path, but they believed that SeeD stood for something higher than money and personal safety. To turn away now would be to dash apart SeeD's dreams.

(Either way, I'm abandoning something. SeeD's ideals, or SeeD's students. Something must be sacrificed.)

(… I hate this.)

General Caraway pushed further. "I have their names, ranks, and student ID numbers, if you think I'm bluffing."

Quistis spoke softly into the radio. "I believe you."

Just knowing that there were exactly eight SeeDs in captivity, the number of the two missing squads, was enough to convince Quistis that he was telling the truth. General Caraway was capable of many things, but her experiences with him did not lead her to believe that he would lie about this.

Desperately, Quistis looked to the Headmaster for assistance. She released the "TALK" button so that the General could not listen in to anything that was said on the balcony. Cid met Quistis' gaze and shook his head, sensing her question before she asked it.

"This is your decision," the Headmaster said. "All matters concerning SeeD's battles—whether to fight, or not to fight—fall to the SeeD Commander, not the Headmaster."

"But you could at least offer some advice!" Quistis said. She heard a desperate whine creep into her voice, but couldn't control it. "You don't have to make the final decision, but you can't just stand there silently either!"

The General, unaware of the debate currently raging on Garden's balcony, continued to press his advantage, his voice coming from the radio in Quistis' hand. "I must admit, SeeD trains its students well. The prisoners have offered nothing aside from the essential details. They have not spoken a word about your mission, or any other sensitive data. I respect that. Commander Quistis, I implore you… don't waste good soldiers."

Unable to contain herself any longer, Mireya stepped forward. "You have to accept, Commander. They're SeeDs. They're our friends and allies. We can't leave them to the Galbadians! Caraway might choose to execute them as soon as you disconnect. This might be their only chance!"

("SeeDs fight… and sometimes they die.")

(They knew what the consequences were…)

(Come on… I need more time to think!)

Stalling, Quistis pushed the "TALK" button and spoke. "What are you planning to do with the prisoners?"

Caraway was quick to respond. "If you refuse? Well, I'm not going to kill them, if that's what you're worried about. I don't believe it's my job to execute Galbadia's POWs. No, that responsibility should be given only to the President. The prisoners will be held until Galbadia finishes its election. Then the new president will be the one who decides what to do with them. It's out of my hands."

Quistis knew that there was no way that any president would ever pardon Galbadia's prisoners, especially if they were at war with SeeD at the time. If the captive SeeDs weren't immediately executed once the new president took office, they would be held in prison indefinitely, possibly to be used as bargaining chips at a later date. In any case, their fates were grim. Furthermore, Quistis had no idea how to begin mounting a rescue operation either, not without taking forces away from the operation in Timber.

(I don't think they'd be executed…)

(… But I don't know that for sure.)

"Commander Quistis?" Caraway said. "I need an answer."

"One moment," she growled into the radio.

Desperately, Quistis looked at the Headmaster. Her eyes bored into his, as if she could compel him to help her by sheer force of will. He sighed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then spoke.

"I believe that SeeD stands for something greater," he said. "And I believe… no, I _know_, that standing for great things requires sacrifice. I despise it, but it is unavoidable. I would like for you to refuse his offer, but not because I told you to do so. I want you to refuse because you believe in the same things I believe in. That's why I'm reluctant to offer advice. I want you to reach these decisions on your own. You could say I'm here to grade your performance, and see how well you do without my help. Remember, you're the future of SeeD, not me."

(That makes me feel even worse.)

(If I'm the future of SeeD, then SeeD's future is bleak.)

Mireya looked at the Headmaster, shock registering clearly on her face. Though Cid had spoken honestly and plainly, she was not moved by his speech. She stepped forward, between the Headmaster and Quistis.

"I believe in SeeD's greatness too," Mireya said, holding a hand to her chest. "But there is a difference between _sacrifice_ and _waste_. Those eight SeeDs rotting in a Galbadian prison? They aren't martyrs. They aren't noble sacrifices. They're SeeDs. Our duty should be to Garden first, and to all our students. We should be doing everything we can to bring them home safely. And here the General is offering the most reasonable argument I've heard in weeks, and you can't decide what to do?"

Mireya threw up her hands and turned away from Quistis. "I don't know what to tell you. It all seems so clear to me."

(Then why don't you try being Commander for a day, if it's so damned easy!)

Quistis wanted to scream. She wasn't angry at Mireya, or angry at the Headmaster. Even her anger towards Caraway and the Galbadians had faded. She wanted to scream because everyone was saying something different to her, yet somehow they were all making sense. Just when Quistis thought that the Headmaster's speech was unbeatable, Mireya countered with another strong argument.

Mireya's words cut to the very core of Quistis' inner conflict.

(Is it enough to stand for noble ideas? Or do we need to show caution and humility?)

(Should we fight a battle we are unlikely to win, or is that only noble stupidity?)

With Mireya, the Headmaster, the three Galbadians, General Caraway, Timber, and possibly the whole world all awaiting her response, Quistis had a revelation.

What battle had ever been more hopeless than the one she, Squall, Rinoa, Zell, Irvine and Selphie had fought against Ultimecia? Xu's words from a few days ago returned to her. Xu had called her "the girl who traveled across time and saved the world." The odds were slim back then, and the danger even greater.

Yet they fought anyway because, if they succeeded, they would find a better future waiting for them than if they retreated. Was the battle in Timber hopeless? Maybe. But if SeeD was victorious, the future that waited on the other side of the battle would be far superior than the one in store if they didn't. A free, independent Timber, and a weakened Galbadia, versus a cowed, shamed SeeD and a devastated Timber. If SeeD did not sacrifice its students, then Timber would be forced to sacrifice its citizens. Galbadia was a machine that was going to kill all who stood in its way, unless someone stopped it.

(And SeeD is going to stop them.)

"General Caraway," Quistis said into the radio.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Your conditions are unacceptable, and have been refused," she said. She felt powerful in that moment, as if she had dragged down a giant with her bare hands. The Headmaster beamed. Mireya looked away in disgust.

"Very well," General Caraway said. "We have nothing further to discuss. Hand me back to the officer in charge."

Quistis handed the radio back to the Galbadian officer. The officer spoke quickly into the radio. "Heading back to the rendezvous point."

"Understood," Caraway said. "Over and out."

The officer nodded to the Headmaster, then to Quistis. He commanded his two soldiers to follow him, as the three headed down a ladder back into the Galbadian ship that had brought them to Garden. A few moments later, the ship pulled away, carving a thin wake behind it as it headed towards the setting sun.

(Maybe we shouldn't let them leave so easily. Next time we see them, they'll be trying to kill us.)

But no. Quistis had just made a major decision because she believed in SeeD's integrity. To launch a surprise attack upon peaceful ambassadors would trample that integrity. Though she disliked it, she would allow the Galbadian soldiers to depart freely.

(We'll have to move to a new location, to keep them from reporting where we are.)

"This is unbelievable," Mireya said to no one in particular. "Commander Squall would have never made that decision. He would put his students first."

The anger that had come and gone returned once more within Quistis. This time, without the Galbadians keeping her emotions contained, she saw no reason to hold it down.

"And who are you, thinking you know Squall?" she said, stepping forward towards the shorter, black-haired woman. "You know nothing of him, if you think he would have caved to the Galbadians. If Squall were here, he would have laughed at Caraway's offer and thrown the radio into the ocean. We're SeeDs, Mireya. The _mission_ comes first. Or have you forgotten?"

(Well, maybe he wouldn't _laugh_ per se, but he wouldn't give in to Caraway either.)

Mireya scowled. "Maybe the mission's wrong. You're the one who accepted it. Everything that happens from here on is your fault."

Quistis took a step back. There was truth, a painful truth, in her words. She had nothing to say in response.

"Please, both of you," Headmaster Cid said, stepping between the two. "The decision is made. Now we must work to plan the next step."

Slowly, both Mireya and Quistis relaxed. Quistis had only seen Mireya a few times before, but already she strongly disliked her. She tried to recall if she had seen Mireya fighting alongside NORG's people during the internal Garden conflict. She couldn't know for sure, but she had a feeling that Mireya would have stood along with NORG, rather than the Headmaster. Something about her mannerisms gave Quistis that impression.

(I'll have to keep an eye on her.)

Mireya turned to the Headmaster, once again burying her feelings in an expressionless mask. "I apologize, Headmaster. Am I dismissed?"

"You are," he said. "Both of you are dismissed."

Mireya nodded, then turned on her heel and headed for the door. Quistis waited a few moments before following. She didn't want to walk side-by-side with her.

("Everything that happens from here on is your fault.")

(She's certainly right about that.)


	14. Chapter 14: Psyche Yourself Up

_**Chapter 14**_

_**Psyche Yourself Up**_

(Zell)

The sorceress looked at the three SeeDs, her eyes moving up and down their bodies, one by one. Judging them. Comparing them. Zell shifted on his feet, uncomfortable under her gaze. After a moment, she smiled and nodded, accepting them.

She extended her hand and shook with each member of the Contact Team, taking Zell's hand last. Her hand was small, but her grip was fierce. Zell glanced down at her deep, brown eyes.

"I like your tattoo," she said, pointing with her free hand at Zell's facial tattoo. "It's cool. So's your hair."

Against his will, Zell's face decided to highlight his tattoo in shades of bright red. He coughed, growing even more uncomfortable. He couldn't explain why her interest bothered him so much. Normally, he was quite excited when people noticed and liked his tattoo, his hair, or his clothes. But somehow, with her, it felt wrong. Unpleasant.

(Maybe it's cause I got a girlfriend now? I dunno.)

"Uh, thanks," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand once, then parted, stepping backwards to address all three SeeDs. "I'm Ciel," she said. "I guess you already know Tavin." She nodded her head to the person standing next to her. Tavin waved awkwardly. "Our third member is my brother, Riel. He's out on the roof, watching for Galbadians. Anyways, we're the members of Forest Wolf. It's cool to finally meet you guys in person."

(Only three people?)

Zell thought that was peculiar for a moment, until he remembered that the Forest Owls—Rinoa's former group—hadn't been much larger. Timber rebels seemed most comfortable operating with small, independent cells, rather than sprawling organizations like SeeD.

Xu spoke first. "My name is Xu. This is Zell and Dax."

The two men nodded at Ciel.

"Tell me," Xu said, "Are you the only three here at the TV Station?"

"Yeah," Ciel said, proudly. "Pretty cool, huh? Just three teenagers in a TV station, and _Galbadia's_ the ones running scared."

Ciel raised her eyebrows and grinned, apparently expecting praise. Xu gave her none, instead choosing to cross her arms and sigh. Zell didn't know Xu very well, but he recognized that expression as distinctly Quistis-like. He'd seen Quistis give the same look to Squall when she felt that he wasn't living up to her expectations.

Xu's voice became colder, more professional as she said, "We were told that you were in contact with the former president of Timber. We had been led to believe he'd be here with you. In addition to providing support, the three of us are here to finalize SeeD's contract with the future government of Timber. We can't exactly do that if the government of Timber isn't _here_."

Ciel shrugged. "Eh, sorry about that. He's not here right now. But I'll get you in touch with him soon, I promise. No worries." She grinned brightly.

Xu was not impressed. "SeeD doesn't operate on promises; it operates on contracts. Just getting the three of us in here took an enormous amount of effort, and we can't afford to continue taking these massive risks without some guarantee that our efforts are not in vain. At the very least, we need a show of faith from you in order to proceed. I must insist that I speak with the president."

Ciel rolled her eyes. Her welcoming grin was gone, replaced with sarcasm so thick it almost dripped down her face.

"Well, I mean, what did you expect?" she said. "Did you really think we'd bring our president right in the middle of a friggin' warzone? If he dies or gets captured, then what? We're screwed, that's what. I thought you SeeDs were supposed to understand, like, basic wartime strategy. Having the president here is probably the dumbest thing we can do right now. I thought that'd be obvious."

If Zell had to guess, he would say that there was probably fewer than three or four years separating Xu and Ciel's ages, yet judging by their respective postures and the way they were talking to each other, Zell almost felt like he was caught between a frustrated parent arguing with a spoiled child. Ciel's expression had turned petulant, rebellious, while Xu's was authoritative and exasperated.

(The sorceress… isn't what I thought she'd be.)

Not that Zell ever had much idea what to expect from Ciel to begin with. But he'd seen the video of her declaring Timber's independence, and from that, he'd formed a picture in his mind of a strong, self-assured sorceress, full of precocious courage and wisdom. Kind of like a Squall mixed with an Edea, and maybe a little bit of Selphie. But that mental image of her was quickly eroding in the face of reality.

"What's obvious here is the danger we are all in right now," Xu said. "We're risking our lives simply by being here, and all you've got to offer us in return for our service is promises of promises. Do you have any idea of what had to be done to make this meeting possible? Do you care? Or are we nothing more than disposable commodities to you?"

Ciel stomped her foot on the floor, hard. Her face reddened, and that intangible sense of energy that surrounded Ciel intensified. Zell felt the room grow colder. Goosebumps raised on the bare flesh of his forearms. Standing close to Ciel was like standing beside an open window in the middle of a blizzard. Zell wanted to back away slowly, put as much distance between himself and the enraged sorceress as possible, but Xu and Dax bravely held their ground, so he did the same.

"If you're so scared, then leave!" Ciel shouted. Despite the supernaturally chill air, her skin was enflamed, sweat forming on her brow underneath her bandanna. A strange buzzing sound filled Zell's ears, giving him a headache. "We just asked for your help, but if that's too much for you, then _go_! We can… we—"

She stopped, choking on her own voice. Furious, she turned her back on the SeeDs, her shoulders quivering. Tavin gave Xu a stricken, apologetic look, then rushed to the sorceress. He put both hands on her shoulders and bent down, trying to get her to look at him. She looked away, down at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Tavin whispered. He looked like he wanted to embrace her, but he kept her at arm's length. "Shh. Shh. Maybe you should go check on your brother. I'll work this out with the SeeDs, okay?"

Ciel sniffed and cleared her throat. She nodded her head slightly, still not looking at him, or at anyone else. She rubbed her eye with the back of her hand.

(Is she… crying?)

Zell exchanged a glance with Dax. Dax used his forefinger to trace a circle around and around his ear. There was no amusement in his face—only contempt. Meanwhile, Xu kept her eyes focused on the scene before her, showing no emotion at all.

(I didn't expect the meeting to go like this…)

"Yeah, okay," Ciel said softly to Tavin. She turned to face the three SeeDs, but didn't look up at them. Her eyes were glistening. "Sorry. I'll be back…"

Xu nodded, but didn't speak. Ciel slowly walked away from the group, her feet dragging on the floor dramatically. She disappeared around a corner. Now that she was gone, the hallway warmed by degrees, until it returned to a normal temperature. The afternoon sun fell on Zell's body, flattening out his goose bumps. The buzzing sound in his ears stopped, leaving him intensely aware of how quiet everyone had become.

After a minute, Tavin sighed. "I'm really sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I swear, she's not usually like this. We're just… under a lot of stress right now, you know?"

"I understand," Xu said. Her flat tone expressed no sympathy for the sorceress. "But we're all going to need her to pull herself together. We don't stand a chance in this fight without the strength of the sorceress backing us up."

"Yeah, we know," Tavin said. "That's kinda why she's so messed up right now. She knows it's all up to her, and she's not dealing with the pressure as well as she thinks she is. I mean, we've never done anything this big before. This is all new to us."

"Is she going to be alright?" Xu asked.

"Ciel? Yeah, she just needs to vent for a few minutes," Tavin said. "She'll be okay in a bit."

"No, I meant is she going to have another breakdown right before a battle?" Xu asked. "If she can't handle the pressure now, when nothing is happening, who's to say what's she going to do when the fighting starts?"

Tavin laughed at her question. "Man, if you knew her, you wouldn't be asking that. When there's a fight, she becomes, like, someone else. She's a demon on the battlefield. It's only times like these, when she has to stop and think about everything, that she really starts to have problems. She worries too much, you know?"

Dax snorted dismissively. "A demon on the battlefield? That little girl?" he said.

Xu shot him a look. "Quiet," she said to him.

Dax shut up, but continued sneering. Zell couldn't help but agree a little with Dax on the issue. He didn't see much in Ciel's personality that suggested that she was secretly a warrior, underneath all that childishness and immaturity.

(I hope I'm wrong about that.)

Tavin eyed Dax confidently. Though Dax was easily twice the size of the skinny little red-headed boy, Tavin seemed to not be intimidated in the slightest.

"Oh, you'll see," Tavin said. "There's a reason why the three of us—all by ourselves—have been able to hold off the Galbadians this long. It's cause of her. Even before she got the sorceress powers, she was a force of nature. Now… now I think she could almost take on the whole G-Army herself."

Zell didn't find that hard to believe. He thought back to all his previous experiences with sorceresses. Edea, Rinoa, Adel, and Ultimecia. All of them were strong, dangerous in their own ways, and sometimes a little scary.

(If she's anything like the others I've met, she could be pretty nasty.)

"There's still the matter of our contract," Xu said, bringing the conversation back on topic. "I sympathize with your situation. I do. But we can't continue the operation unless you hold up your end of the bargain. We must speak with the former president of Timber and secure a signed contract before we can proceed. It's a deal-breaker."

If Zell remembered correctly, Timber had offered to give up a portion of their national income to SeeD for as long as Timber remained independent. He didn't know the exact figures behind the deal, but even he knew that it was a massive payout, one that could change the fate of SeeD forever. He also knew that it would be all too easy for Timber to back out at the last moment, or try to offer a lesser payment once the fighting stopped.

(We need a contract. Otherwise we're risking our lives basically for free.)

Tavin sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Yyyeaah… Like Ciel said, he's not here. Dunno what she told you… but he's never been at the TV Station. I'm sorry if she said something different to you guys."

"Then where is he?" Xu said, her tone getting sharp again. "Our Commander personally saw him in a cable communication recently, so you must have had contact with him at some point in the past twenty-four hours. If he's not here, then where is he?"

Tavin had a pained expression on his face, as if dragging out an explanation was physically hurting him. "I can't tell you where he is. He's in a secret location. I'm really sorry."

(This guy apologizes a lot.)

Xu frowned, then looked away. After a moment, she faced back to Tavin and her eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry we ever got involved in this mess. We believed we'd be working with a strong, unified Timber resistance, led by its former president and supported by the strength of a sorceress. Instead we get a handful of kids and a lot of apologies and promises. Have you ever told us the truth, or has it been nothing but lies from the start?"

(Man, I've never seen Xu angry before.)

(… Scary.)

Tavin looked to Xu, to Zell, to Dax, his mouth open in shock. "I don't… I don't know what to tell you," he stammered. "I'm not the strategy guy. I don't know what Ciel promised you. What lies? What did she say?"

"Who are the others?" Xu said. "You can start by telling us that. Not just Forest Wolf, but everyone involved in this operation right now."

Tavin rubbed his chin in thought. His desperation to give Xu the answers she wanted, to keep the mission moving forward, was obvious. But the fear and nervousness in his voice and body didn't inspire confidence.

"Um… Well there's me, Ciel, Riel, and the president," he said. "And a couple other people from the other resistance groups. Like, the Forest Bears are the guys with the train who brought you into the city. And… uh, I think that's it. I'm just a lackey, really. I follow orders. I don't know what the big picture is. There might be more people involved. I don't know."

Xu sighed. She stepped forward towards Tavin and put a gentle, but firm hand on his shoulder. "Tavin, I need you to be honest with us. Can you do that?"

He looked hurt by the question. "Yeah, of course," he said. "I'm not gonna lie to you guys. I'd never…"

"Good. Let's start with the basics," Xu said. "Who's in charge of this operation?"

Tavin stuttered out an answer, "I-I don't know what you mean. Riel, I guess. He's always been our leader."

"Riel? The sorceress' brother?" Xu said.

"Yeah," Tavin said. "We voted for him to be leader a while back."

"Isn't the president in charge?" Xu asked. "Don't you take orders from him?"

"Not really," Tavin said. "He supports us, and we support him too. But we don't really talk to him much, no. It's not safe for him to be out in the open."

Xu sighed and closed her eyes, releasing Tavin's shoulder. She began rubbing her temples with the fingers of both hands.

"What?" Tavin asked, confused. "You asked for the truth."

"I know," Xu said, still not opening her eyes. "But it's not a pleasant truth."

"So lemme get this straight," Zell said. "The president's not here, and he's not even really involved in the mission. He's just promising that if we help you guys out, he'll cut us in on the profits when Timber is liberated."

"Yeah, basically," Tavin said. "I thought you knew that already."

"This's all been a waste of time," Dax said. "I say we get out of here. Cut our losses and go."

"I told you to be quiet," Xu said, glaring at him.

Dax pointed at Zell. "So how come he gets to talk?"

Xu looked at the two SeeDs. "Both of you, stop talking."

(OH COME ON!)

"THE HELL?" Zell said. He shook a fist at Dax. Dax smirked back at him, triumphantly.

"So why you?" Xu asked. "Why did you three decide to take over the TV Station and declare Timber's independence?"

"Kind of a long story," Tavin said.

"Make it shorter," Xu said.

He gulped. "Um… Well, cause of Ciel becoming a sorceress," he said. "Forest Wolf specializes in stealing Galbadian weapons and stockpiling them for the future. One night, when we were on a raid, we end up in one of their warehouses, right? Me, Ciel, and Riel were going through their boxes and looking out for guards, when we see this fire suddenly pop out of nowhere. Then this girl with weird blue skin shows up, bleeding and all messed up, like she just got out of a fight or something. And we were freaked out, you know? She looked like an alien."

"One of the sorceresses from time compression, right?" Zell asked.

Tavin stared at him blankly. "… What?"

(Oh right, he wouldn't know about that.)

"Uh, sorry, man," Zell said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "What happened next?"

"So yeah," Tavin said. "So this woman or whatever goes up to Ciel, touches her, and then disappears. And then just like that, Ciel was a sorceress. I guess that woman was a sorceress too? I don't know. Anyway, after we got back, Ciel starts messing around with her new powers. And she was _strong_. I mean, I gotta admit, I'm a little scared of her now. If you can see some of the things she can do… it's crazy…"

Xu crossed her arms. "We're aware of the things a sorceress can do. Get to the point."

Tavin waved his hand, as if dismissing himself. "Anyway, yeah, so Ciel and her brother came up with this idea to take over the TV Station and announce Timber's independence. They wanted to try to get SeeD on board too. We figured if we had SeeD here backing us up, the other resistance groups would feel safer about joining with the rebellion. If we got the sorceress, SeeD, _and_ all the Timber rebel groups working together, then even Galbadia would have to think twice about fighting us. It was Riel's idea to use Gian—the former president—to kinda tempt you guys over. I'm actually Gian's first cousin, twice removed, if you believe it, so I got a connection with him. Anyway, so… yeah. We did that… and now you're here. So um… thanks for coming, I guess."

"So that's it," Xu said flatly. "That's the story."

Tavin shrugged. "Yup."

There was a long pause while everyone waited for Xu's next comment. Tavin looked at the three SeeDs. Seeing Xu's expression, he gulped and tried to smile. He began idly fidgeting with his bright red hair, twirling it around his finger and tugging on it. Zell changed his posture a few times, growing ever more uncomfortable with the prolonged silence. Finally, Xu spoke.

"So you three aren't actually speaking on behalf of all of Timber," Xu said. "Or even a majority of it. And you can't offer us the promised payment, because the president isn't part of the operation. You're three kids who took over a TV Station on an impulse, so now you think you're soldiers."

"It's not like that," Tavin said, hurriedly. "After we've liberated Timber and Gian becomes president, he'll honor the deal with SeeD. He's not gonna back out of it, if that's what you're worried about."

"_If_ you're liberated and _if_ Gian is elected," Xu said. She shook her head and raised her hands, then dropped them to her sides. "You've been honest with us, Tavin, so let me be honest with you."

"Okay."

"SeeD has never taken a deal this flimsy before," Xu said. "You really have _nothing_ to offer us, except for a few vague promises that depend mostly on a complicated series of events you have little control over."

"It's not—"

"Let me finish. Try to understand our perspective. You're asking us to fight a war with you. A war against what is probably the largest army in the world. And you've been lying to us and misleading us and offering us only promises. We could have died coming here. Are our lives worth so little to you, that you're willing to risk them for nothing?"

"No!" Tavin said. He gritted his teeth. "I don't want anyone to die!"

"Someone has to die," Xu said. "Galbadians or SeeDs or the people of Timber. Most likely some of all three. That's how war goes. People are going to die based on your decisions, no matter how noble or well-intentioned those decisions are. Now you really need to ask yourself, how would you feel to be us? Would you accept these terms you've offered, if you were in our position? Would you risk everything for nothing?"

Tavin looked down at the floor. His body shook a little as he fought to contain his turbulent emotions. Zell found himself starting to feel sorry for the guy. He looked so weak, small, and helpless.

All Zell's life, he'd been a student at Garden, growing up in a military setting. He was accustomed to seeing children younger than seven or eight years old training with weapons and marching in perfect formation—as well-disciplined as any soldier Galbadia had to offer. He'd seen teenagers fight for their lives, and watched some of them die. So it was always a weird transition for him, to see a civilian boy with almost no experience, who suddenly found himself tossed into situations like this. The sorceress and Tavin weren't SeeDs, and it wasn't fair to treat them like they were.

(Maybe we're being too hard on them.)

Finally, his eyes glistening, Tavin looked up and faced Xu.

"I do want to help you," Xu said. "We all do. But you need to work with us. You need to give us something solid, or we can't move forward."

Tavin sniffed, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yeah… I know."

(Everyone around here keeps crying…)

"If you can't bring the president here, can you take us to him?" Xu asked.

"I… no," Tavin said. He shook his head. "I can't. Sorry."

"Why not?"

"We can't risk it," Tavin said. He met Xu's gaze. "He's in our hiding spot. Where we have our meetings and store the weapons that we steal from Galbadia. I'm not allowed to bring anyone there, not even SeeD. It's not that we don't trust you, but… we don't trust you. If Galbadia finds out about the president and our weapon stockpile, it's all over. Might as well kill us and save the Galbadians the trouble."

"You have to try to work something out with the others," Xu said. "If you can't get the president here, if we can't secure a deal somehow, then I'll have no choice but to withdraw from Timber."

Tavin looked at her, terror in his eyes. "You can't! If SeeD pulls out now, the three of us are gonna die. They'll kill Ciel. Riel and I would be lucky to go to prison for the rest of our lives."

Xu's face showed no expression. "Most likely, yes," she said.

(Harsh.)

(… But probably true.)

Tavin sighed. "I-I understand. I'll talk to the others. I'll figure something out."

"Good luck," Xu said. "I really mean it."

"Thanks…" Tavin said. He nodded at the three SeeDs, then dragged his feet down the hall and around the corner, following the path Ciel had taken a few minutes prior. When he was well out of hearing range, Dax turned to Xu.

"Can I talk now?" Dax asked.

Xu gave him a look. "You have permission to speak, yes."

Dax grunted. "You know, I used to have a girlfriend like that sorceress," he said. "Crazier than all hell. The best thing we can do is bail now, before we're in too deep. I'm tellin' ya, in a week she'll be sneaking into our rooms when we're asleep and stealing locks of our hair."

He rubbed at patch of hair on the back of his head, as if reassuring himself that everything was still intact.

Zell thought back to his first mission as a SeeD, with Squall and Selphie. They'd gone off to Timber to help the Forest Owls, a resistance group that was only slightly larger than Forest Wolf, but not much more organized. Their first meeting with Rinoa went pretty poorly, and at one point, Squall went on a tirade on her, criticizing her organization, her mission, her ability.

(Wow. Déjà vu.)

Zell scratched the back of his head. "Well, the Forest Owls weren't much better, really. It kinda seems like this is how all the Timber resistance groups operate."

"This ain't a resistance," Dax said. "My little sister throws tea parties with her stuffed animals that are more organized than this."

For a moment, Zell pictured a tiny, younger version of Dax, dressed up in a frilly pink dress and bonnet, surrounded by plush dolls. For some odd reason, his imagination chose to depict the girl as having Dax's freakish arms, her oversized fingers practically crushing her teacup with every sip.

(Scary.)

"You need to remember," Xu said, "Timber hasn't had an organized military in almost twenty years. The Resistance members are all civilians, and only a few are old enough to have ever served in the military. We knew our clients were inexperienced when we took the job. We counted on it, actually."

Dax scoffed. "'Inexperienced' is being pretty damn generous. These idiots are _inept_. Everybody's cryin' like some they're in a stupid chick flick."

"Hey, man," Zell said. "Let's at least give 'em a shot. They said they got a weapon stockpile somewhere. And they got a sorceress. And they took over the TV Station without our help, so I mean, they can't be all bad, right?"

Xu nodded. "Zell has a point. Most of our clients can't fight at all, leaving SeeD to do all the real work. We're in the unique situation right now where one of our clients is actually more powerful than all of us combined. If we can sort out this contract issue, I still feel confident we can move forward with the operation. If we guide them along, we can make this work."

Dax shook his head. "They're gonna get us all killed."

Xu narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you afraid, Dax?"

"Psh! Never," Dax said, offended.

"Then be quiet," Xu said. "I'm the ranking SeeD here, and the Commander left me with the decision of whether or not this operation proceeds. Now, I'm going to look around the building and get my bearings." She turned to Zell. "Zell, hold on to your radio, and don't let it out of your sight. It's our only guaranteed link to Garden right now."

"Yes, ma'am," Zell said.

"Dax, get up on the roof and do some reconnaissance on the Galbadians' movements," she said. "Don't let yourself be seen by the G-Army."

Dax nodded, his years of training instantly removing the sarcasm from his tone. "Yes, ma'am."

"So… Uh… What should I do?" Zell asked.

Xu turned to him and gave a faint smile. "You, Zell," she said. "You are going to play the good cop for us. It's your job to be the liaison between Forest Wolf and SeeD. I want you to find them, gain their trust, make sure they agree with the mission, and then report back to me any important information they mention to you."

Zell winced. "But umm…" he said.

(I'm not really good at that kinda stuff…)

Zell's fists were more eloquent than his tongue, and he knew it. Every time he opened his mouth, bad things happened. He wasn't stupid, per se, nor was he deliberately trying to sabotage missions with his outbursts. But sometimes he couldn't foresee the consequences of his actions until after he'd committed them.

"What if I screw up?" Zell asked.

Xu shook her head. "You won't. There's nothing to screw up. You don't know any sensitive information that they don't already know, so you can't blurt out any secrets by accident. Plus, I believe they'll have reason to trust you almost automatically. All you have to do is act natural. It'll be fine."

Zell blew out his cheeks. "Umm… I'll try," he said. "I guess."

"Great," Dax said with a sneer. "The entire mission hinges on _this_ moron convincing _those_ morons to be logical. It's the blind leading the blind over here."

"HEY!" Zell said, threatening Dax with one clenched fist. Xu swatted down Zell's hand and stepped between the pair before anything could happen. Zell grumbled, his anger slowly subsiding as his brain regained control of his body.

"I think you misunderstand the situation, Dax," Xu said. "We're actually in a very good position right now. As Tavin has already realized, they absolutely need us to stay. If SeeD were to pull out now, Galbadia would quickly move in and crush the rebellion, sorceress or no sorceress. So Zell doesn't need to convince them to do anything; they'll figure that part on their own."

She continued. "Furthermore, it is quite clear that we cannot proceed in this operation in the usual SeeD style, where the client gives us orders and we obey them. Obviously, these clients are a special case and we need them to hand over total command authority to the three of us, if this mission is going to have any shot at succeeding. I believe that they'll be more likely to respect us—and obey us—if they think that at least one of us is sympathetic to their cause. That's what I meant when I said Zell needs to be the good cop. If all goes to plan, I'll be the mean SeeD team leader who makes all the hard decisions, and Zell will be the good guy who makes sure they stay in line. It will allow us to do what needs to be done, without risking them turning against us. Do you understand?"

Dax hesitated, unable to find a flaw in her reasoning. "So where's that leave me? What am I then?"

"The muscle, obviously," Xu said.

Dax snorted, but Zell got the feeling that he wasn't going to argue anymore.

"All right," Xu said. "You two have your orders. Now move out."

Dax and Zell nodded. Xu spun around and headed down the hall towards the stairway. Dax followed her as far as the stairs, but went up to the roof instead of following her down to the first floor. Zell paused in the middle of the hallway, trying to sort out everything that Xu had told him.

(I didn't understand any of that.)

Xu had just thrown a pile of big words and jargon in his face and then ran off, as if that explained everything. He had only a vague idea of what she wanted from him, but she gave him the impression that everything was under control, so that was good enough for him. As long as Xu had a plan, things couldn't be all bad.

(Just act natural.)

(Easy enough, I guess.)

Zell shrugged to himself and followed the path where Ciel and Tavin had gone.

Around the corner, the hallway continued, leading to a row of office rooms. All the doors were shut, the lights inside turned off. Out of curiosity, Zell stopped at each door and peered through the windows, cupping his hands around his eyes to block out the glare of the sun. Each darkened room had once been the office for TV Station executives. Following the collapse of the radio industry, they'd remained untouched for almost twenty years. Dusty file cabinets stood in the corners, towering over dead potted plants and empty desks. Some doors still bore name plaques, identifying the offices as belonging to the "Senior Marketing Executive," the "Chief Financial Officer," or some other important-sounding title. On other doors the plaques had fallen off, leaving rectangular patches of lighter wood behind where they once were placed.

Aside from the novelty of seeing what abandoned offices looked like, there was nothing interesting in any of the rooms. Zell continued on to where the hall abruptly ended, finding himself facing a closed door. Unlike the other doors in the hall, this one didn't have a window, and instead of being made of wood, it was composed of some other, denser material that Zell didn't recognize. Above the door was a rectangular light-up sign with the word "Live" written on it. The light was currently off.

(I guess this is a recording booth…)

Zell approached the door and rapped his knuckles on it. After a moment, he realized that the door to a recording booth would probably be soundproofed. He twisted the knob and entered, without waiting to be admitted.

"Hey, guys," he said, awkwardly. "Uh… am I interrupting?"

As he had suspected, the room beyond was a recording studio. The three members of Forest Wolf were sitting in the control room. The room was dominated by a large gray mixing panel, covered in switches and knobs. A long window above the panel peered into the recording booth, a large gray room with two ancient microphones hanging from metal rods in the ceiling, all covered in dust and spider webs.

Tavin sat in an office chair, idly kicking the floor to make the chair spin in circles. Ciel sat in the corner of the control room, on a large wooden crate. Even if Zell had his eyes closed, he would have known Ciel was in the room, just by the constant, buzzing energy she emitted. Fortunately, she seemed to have calmed down since her altercation with Xu, and the static in Zell's brain was much easier to manage.

Sitting in the middle of the room, on another office chair, was the male version of Ciel. The resemblance was unmistakable, down to the exact same shade of blonde in his hair and the sharp, youthful angles of his face. The similarity was strengthened by the fact that he wore a red bandanna on his head, tied the same way as Ciel's. He glared at Zell and spoke.

"Yeah, you're interrupting," he said, his voice only a bit deeper than Ciel's.

Zell jumped. Confused, he looked to the man, to Ciel, then back to the man.

"Whoa, dude," Zell said. "You could be like, Ciel's twin!"

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. "I _am_ her twin."

"Oh," Zell said, heat rising in his face. "Oh yeah, that's right. Tavin said she had a brother. I just didn't know you two were twins. That's cool. I've never met identical twins before."

Ciel and Tavin covered their mouths with their hands, stifling laughs. Apparently, Ciel's brother saw nothing amusing about Zell's remark. He scowled.

"We're not identical," he said. "Either she'd have to be a man or I'd have to be a woman."

(Huh? Oh. Right. Yeah.)

Zell opened his mouth and said, "Oooohhhh… yeah. You got a point. Then I guess you're uh, Riel then, huh?" Zell asked.

He extended his hand for a shake, his hand dangling in the air for a few moments before he decided that Riel wasn't going to take it. Trying to act casual, he leaned up against the inside of the closed door and crossed his arms. Already, he'd forgotten why Xu had sent him and was just making conversation out of simple curiosity.

"Yeah," Riel said. "That's me."

"Wow. Even your names are alike," Zell said, astonished. "That's crazy. Like, what are the odds, you know?"

This time, neither Ciel nor Tavin could contain their laughter. Ciel flopped over on her side, clutching her stomach and laughing. Tavin snorted and coughed, watching Riel's expression. Riel continued to scowl. Zell didn't know what was so funny, but he was glad everyone was laughing. It was better than having them scream at him.

"Our parents named us," he said. "We didn't come out of the womb named 'Ciel and Riel.' Are you really that stupid?"

"Hey!" Zell said. He straightened up, unconsciously assuming a fighting stance. "I was just being friendly, man!"

"Lighten up, Ree," Ciel said between laughing. "You're always so damn serious."

"This is a serious situation!" Riel said, his voice cracking. He got up out of his chair, standing at his full height, which was almost a full head shorter than Zell.

(Man, he's even short like she is.)

"And we're having a strategy meeting right now," Riel said. He puffed his chest out, trying his best to look strong and authoritative, but his tiny stature undermined his efforts. "So go wait outside."

The habit of automatically obeying orders without question was so ingrained into Zell's mind that, as soon as the words had escaped Riel's lips, Zell turned around and put his hand on the door, motioning to leave. But he stopped himself, all at once remembering that he was supposed to be gathering information, as well as a couple other things he couldn't quite recall.

(I'm supposed to be the good cop.)

(… Whatever that means.)

"Actually, uh," Zell said, turning away from the door. "I'm uh… gonna stay, if that's okay."

"No, it isn't okay," Riel said. "Forest Wolf only. Get out."

"Zell can stay," Ciel said. "I don't mind."

The laughter and amusement in her voice had died. In that moment, she regained the commanding strength that Zell had first seen when he'd watched her speech online. This was the sorceress he expected to meet when he first came to the TV Station. Though he didn't say anything, he was glad to see her taking charge. She possessed a quality that her brother lacked, despite their near identicalness. He couldn't say why, but he'd gladly take orders from her rather than her brother.

(Maybe cause she's a sorceress?)

Riel didn't back down. He spun to face his sister, stabbing at his chest with one finger. "I'm the leader of Forest Wolf. I give the orders."

Ciel smirked, humorlessly. "I'm the sorceress. And I say that Zell can stay."

The buzzing sensation, that feeling of power Ciel emitted, magnified in the room. But there was a different quality to it this time. Previously, in the hallway, the energy felt dangerous and wild. This time it was calm and forceful, seeming to push down on Zell's shoulders like a weight. Riel could feel it as well, and his anger died away, changing into submission.

"Fine," he said. He returned to his seat. "I'll allow it."

(I wonder why I never get that feeling from Rinoa?)

Ciel hopped off the crate gracefully, and the energy in the room faded. She took a few steps towards Zell, moving up close to him. Close enough to where she could reach out and touch him, if she wanted. Her head was right under his nose. He caught a scent of flowery shampoos and soaps.

"I'm really sorry about what happened in the hall," she said. "Sometimes I get a little emotional, you know? I say stuff I don't really mean. I hope… I hope you're not mad at me."

Once again, her tone had shifted dramatically. He voice was higher and she almost lisping. She held her hands behind her back and tilted her head down, her eyes looking up at Zell through her long eyelashes. Zell felt a new energy pumping through his body, but he couldn't tell if it was coming from the sorceress or from himself. He felt Riel's scornful gaze on him and gulped.

(Focus.)

(Act casual.)

"Hey, no biggie," Zell said. "I'm like that all the time. It's like my mouth has a mind of its own sometimes."

Ciel laughed, too loud and long.

(… Did I say something stupid again?)

"You're funny, Zell," she said, playfully shoving his chest. Her fingertips left unnatural bursts of heat on his body. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Um, yeah, sometimes," Zell said. Riel continued to glare, and even Tavin was looking on with an expression of distaste. Suddenly, Zell became horribly self-conscious, too aware of himself, too aware of the sorceress, and far, far too aware of how close she was standing to him.

(ACT CASUAL!)

"Can we get back on subject?" Riel said loudly. Ciel pouted and turned around, but planted her feet and stayed close to Zell. Riel was glaring at them both, while Tavin had gone silent, staring intently at the floor, no longer spinning in circles in his chair.

"We can't bring the president here," Riel said. "It's too big a risk. Zell, tell your commander that we'll have to work something else out."

Zell froze, unsure of how to answer. He knew he was supposed to be the good cop, but he still had no idea what that meant. Was he supposed to stand his ground, like Xu had, and insist that Forest Wolf bring the president, or was he supposed to side with Forest Wolf and try to work out a deal?

(Ugh. I'm no good at this stuff.)

Fortunately, Ciel made his decision for him. "I'll bring the president," she declared, in a voice that allowed no argument.

Riel burst from his chair, sending it rolling back into the control panel behind him. Yet, with all his speed and fury, he still wasn't very threatening. His voice cracked some more as he said to his sister, "You have to stay here, in case the Galbadians attack!"

"We have SeeD here for that now," Ciel said. She turned to Zell and softened her voice. "You can protect us, right?"

(Uh… Maybe?)

"We'll do our best," Zell said.

"It won't take me long to go there and back," Ciel said. "Plus, I've got an idea I wanna try."

"What idea?" Riel asked.

Ciel smirked. "It's a secret."

Riel looked exasperated. "C'mon, stop playing."

"I'm not playing," Ciel said. "It's better if you guys don't know. You gotta trust me, okay?"

Riel rolled his eyes. "Ciel, no," he said. "Your ideas are always terrible. That's why I'm the leader and you're not."

Ciel looked past her brother to Tavin. "Tav," she said, pleadingly. "Back me up, Tav."

Suddenly, all eyes were on the small, red-haired boy in the office chair. He shrunk deeper into the cushion of the seat, stuttering and licking his lips.

"I-I don't make the plans," he said.

"But you're still a part of Forest Wolf," Ciel said. "Which means you get a say in what happens. So let's have a vote. All in favor of making me leader, raise your hand."

Ciel's hand shot up. Zell looked at her. He wasn't sure either way, but he had the idea that maybe a "good cop" was supposed to take the sorceress' side in this situation. He raised his hand as well. Riel glared daggers at him.

"You don't get a vote," Riel said.

"Oh…" Zell said, lowering his hand.

After a moment, Tavin's hand went up as well. Ciel beamed at him.

"It's decided," she said, dropping her hand. "Two-thirds majority vote. I'm the new leader of Forest Wolf."

(Well… that was easy.)

"That is _not_ fair," Riel said, his scowl now becoming a permanent fixture on his face.

"Why not?" Ciel asked. "It's how we made you leader in the first place. We voted you in. And now, we voted you out. It's totally fair."

"But I'm…" he said. Clenching his teeth, he looked at his sister, then to Tavin. He shook his head in defeat, as if he was giving up.

"Whatever," he said at last. "Do what you want. You're the sorceress."

"Exactly," Ciel said. "My first order to you is to go accept SeeD's offer. Tell them that I'll leave tonight to go get the president and bring him here."

"Why don't you go?" Riel asked. "Why send me?"

"Cause I'm the leader," Ciel said. "And I said so."

Mumbling, Riel moved for the door. Zell stepped aside to let him pass, relieved to have an excuse to put a little more distance between himself and the sorceress. But Ciel took this chance to sidestep along with him, coming in even closer. In the cramped quarters, she was almost touching him, the bare skin of her arms a hand's breadth away from his. Power and energy leapt off her like static. She looked up at Zell and smiled. He grinned back, feeling awkward, but trying not to show it.

(CASUAL!)

Riel opened the door and stepped outside. The door fell shut behind him, sealing the three in the room by themselves. Ciel made no effort to give Zell any personal space, instead standing right next to him, even though there was plenty of room for her to go elsewhere.

"So… umm," Zell said. He was overwhelmed with the urge to say something, to break the silence, but he couldn't think of anything to say. "Yeah," he concluded.

"You know what we need?" Ciel said, clapping her hands together.

"Whazzat?" Zell asked.

"A demonstration," Ciel said. "I know you SeeD guys don't trust me, so I'm gonna show you what I can do. C'mon!"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Zell's hand and pulled him to the door, excitedly. Zell resisted for a moment, with the way she'd suddenly grabbed his hand without warning, but she gave a quick tug that got Zell's feet in motion, and forced him to follow her. She opened the door and stepped out into the hall, with Tavin following a few steps behind them.

Ciel's hand was comfortingly cool, like a glass of ice water on a hot day. Despite himself, Zell found that he was relaxing a little, becoming a little more amenable to her touch. The memory of their first encounter was becoming dimmer in his mind, seeming less important with each passing second.

(I guess she's not so bad after all.)

He started to feel excited for the mission as a whole. With Ciel's power, Xu's leadership, and SeeD's support, Timber might actually get liberated! Images of SeeD and Timber united, chasing off waves of panicked, fleeing Galbadians entered his mind. He imagined years from now, free Timber citizens electing a charismatic and handsome new President. He pictured the mighty forests of Timber slowly growing back, reclaiming the land that had been cut bare. He saw—

The images in his mind stopped as Ciel reached the stairwell, pulling him up the steps. With a shock of disorientation, he realized that he couldn't remember the entire trip down the hall. It was almost as if he'd teleported straight from the recording booth all the way to the stairs. He glanced back and saw Tavin still behind them. Tavin didn't seem to have noticed anything strange.

(Weird.)

Ciel pulled Zell all the way up the steps, to the door marked "ROOF" in white letters. She opened it and stepped outside into the sunlight. The roof was a flat, blue surface covered with high antennas that wobbled in the breeze. A thin guardrail encircled the roof. Down below, in the city, Zell could hear the clattering of trains and an occasional car rumbling down the streets.

"Galbadia used to have the place surrounded," Ciel said as she walked out onto the roof. "But I blast them every now and then, to break them up. That's why it was so easy for you guys to get in here. They took down all the barricades and moved their soldiers back, out of my range."

"Yeah, Tavin mentioned that," Zell said, dreamily. The world seemed foggy somehow. The details of the city all blurred together into an inconsequential mash. All that really mattered was Ciel, her voice, and her hand gripping his. Whereas before, her closeness, her contact seemed unpleasant, now he was coming to enjoy it.

(I… huh?)

From behind one of the antenna, Dax stepped into view. Ciel jumped and released her grip on Zell, raising her hand into a fist. At once, Zell felt two wildly conflicting sensations. The dimness of the world fell away, like turning on a light in a dark room, and Zell's mind felt clear again for the first time since the recording studio. At the same time, he felt a wave of angry, violent energy forming around Ciel's fist as she summoned up a spell to attack the intruder on the roof.

"Wait!" Tavin said. "It's Dax!"

Ciel looked at the SeeD, recognition finally registering on her face. She lowered her hand and allowed the energy of her spell to fade away. Zell was only dimly aware of his surroundings. Instead, all his thoughts were bent on trying to sort out what had just happened to him. He was only vaguely aware of going up to the roof. What happened? Did he space out?

(What…?)

"Don't sneak up on me," Ciel said to Dax, glaring at him. Dax ignored her and stepped around the antennas towards the group.

"Sup, Zell?" Dax said, nodding to his fellow SeeD. Zell nodded back. He and Dax were hardly friends, but he was a familiar face in a place that was becoming stranger and more alien to Zell every second. With Dax's presence keeping him grounded, he began to feel like reality was returning to him.

"Hey look!" Ciel said, pointing down into the streets. "An army car decided to get a little too close. They must think I'm not paying attention. I think it's about time for my demonstration."

She smiled impishly, revealing the top row of her teeth. Tavin grinned back. But Zell didn't share their enthusiasm. He was already well aware of the destruction a sorceress was capable of. Not only did he not need the demonstration, he honestly would have preferred it if she chose not to show her power.

"I… don't think that's a good idea," Zell said.

"Naw, it's fine," Ciel said. "We do this all the time. Keeps the Galbadians on their toes, you know?"

Ciel broke away from the others and headed towards the edge of the roof, getting close to the railing. Zell's SeeD training automatically kicked in, and he realized how exposed and vulnerable she was, revealing herself to any Galbadians who might be watching.

(Or aiming.)

But no one else stepped forward to stop her, so Zell stayed in place. He looked beyond her, quickly finding a blue Galbadian supply truck that currently was wending its way through a narrow alley, heading in the direction of the TV Station.

Ciel began drawing energy. Once more, Zell felt the air pulse as she summoned up a spell.

"Now you see it…" Ciel said.

She brought up her fist to her eyes, glowing white energy bursting from between her fingers. She turned her fist, palm out, towards the truck and opened her hand. A bolt of lightning—as big as anything seen in even the worst thunderstorms—shot from her hand and arced down the road, drawing a brilliant white line from the TV Station down to the truck. The crack was deafening, so loud that Zell could feel the shockwave as it passed over his body, ruffling his clothes. He closed his eyes to keep from being blinded.

The truck in the street exploded instantly, sending shrapnel and flame into the surrounding buildings. The shockwave set off nearby car alarms, filling the air with wailing sirens. The air smelled burnt, and Zell's ears were ringing painfully.

"… And now you don't," Ciel said, turning her back on the railing. She looked at the others, smiling broadly.

"Right on," Tavin said, smiling back. "The G-Army just got a little smaller."

(OOookay.)

"Yeah… uh… woo, Timber," Zell said, opening his eyes slowly. He raised a fist half-heartedly.

Ciel sighed in pleasure and turned back to gaze down upon the remnants of her attack. In the distance, a few surviving Galbadians were scrambling to get the dead and wounded out of the truck and away from the sorceress' fury.

"Look at them…" Ciel said, her voice frighteningly cold and emotionless. "They're afraid. Mighty Galbadia is _afraid_. It's that funny? They're afraid of me." She stepped away from the railing and rejoined the others. "When's the last time Galbadia had a reason to be afraid of _anyone_?"

Zell didn't have to think very hard to come up with several answers to her question.

(Sorceress Edea.)

(Adel. The Sorceress War.)

Zell gulped. Ciel didn't notice him.

"It's about time they knew what it felt like," she said. "It's about time _they_ ran and hid, instead of us."

Ciel walked past the group, heading for the stairs. As she passed Zell, she reached out quickly to seize his hand, but he pulled it away and took a step back. She looked up at him, hurt showing in her eyes, but she continued on to the stairs. Once more, Zell felt vaguely repulsed by her closeness. The thought of holding her hand, touching her skin, was sickening.

Tavin followed her down the steps, leaving Dax and Zell alone for a moment. Once again, Dax circled his forefinger around his ear. This time, Zell had no trouble agreeing with him. He nodded, and went down the steps.

"I wanna talk to your leader," Ciel said, her voice echoing in the stairwell. "Xu, her name was?"  
"Yeah," Zell said.

(Jeez, I don't even like _talking_ to her anymore.)

"We got off on the wrong foot," Ciel said. Her voice was painful to him, in a way he couldn't describe. "You guys were right to be angry. I… I should've thought this plan through better. But it's okay now. I'll leave tonight and bring the president here and we'll finish the mission as planned. Sound good?"

"Sure thing," Zell said.

But all his enthusiasm for the mission was slipping away. The sorceress, the very person who formed the irreplaceable heart of the entire operation, was clearly unstable. She cried over nothing, she smiled when she killed unsuspecting soldiers. Sometimes she took charge, and seemed as immovable as a mountain. Other times, she was as frail as a dried leaf in autumn. She was all of these things and more, in less than the span of an hour.

There was also that gap in Zell's memory, between the recording studio and the stairwell. And that odd mix of conflicting feelings he got whenever she was close by. Disgust, mingled with something else he couldn't quite name.

(I don't wanna be here.)

They continued down to the first floor, entering into another hallway. More closed and locked doors lined either side of the hall. Corkboards with old memos pinned on to them were hung next to a row of "Employee of the Month" photos. To distract himself, Zell stared at the faces in the pictures and wondered where those people were now. If some of them had joined up with a resistance faction. If some of them were dead.

In the front of the building, in a large lobby with old, torn couches and a wide reception desk, Xu and Riel were talking to each other.

Xu turned and nodded to the newcomers.

"Excellent timing," she said. "We were just about to go look for you."

"That blast a few minutes ago," Riel said to his sister. "Was that you?"

"Mm hmm," Ciel said with a smile.

He raised a curious eyebrow. Their previous argument seemed to have been completely forgotten. "Hit anything good?" Riel asked.

"A supply truck," Ciel said with a shrug. "Nothing major."

"Nice," Riel said.

Xu cleared her throat politely. When the members of Forest Wolf turned to her, she said, "I would like a moment alone with my team, if you would."

"Sure, no problem," Ciel said. She bowed contritely. "And I really am sorry for before. I hope you forgive me."

Xu waved her off. "It happens. Don't worry about it."

Ciel smiled at the SeeDs. "We'll go get dinner ready, and then show you all where you can sleep. In the morning, I'll have the president here, and we can get started on liberating Timber."

Xu nodded. With that, the members of Forest Wolf grouped together and exited the lobby. It was only after the sorceress was gone that Zell realized that there had been a constant humming noise in the room. The silence following her departure was staggering.

(Man, she freaks me out so bad.)

Xu craned her neck to see down the hall, making sure that Forest Wolf was well out of hearing range. Then she waved Dax and Zell over to a far corner of the room, behind the reception desk, and hunkered down beside a water-stained couch and a vase that used to hold plants, but now only held brown, dead leaves and moldy soil. Zell and Dax crouched down next to her.

"So, anything to report?" Xu whispered.

Zell didn't know where to start, so he summarized everything he'd discussed with Ciel and the others, placing special emphasis on the things she said and did on the roof. He didn't mention the time when he was holding hands with the sorceress, nor the odd, blurry feeling he got on the roof. The more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder if he'd just imagined it all. In any case, he found it embarrassing, and didn't want to talk about it with Xu.

"We have to withdraw," Dax said. "They're stupid _and_ they're crazy."

"And powerful," Zell said. "A really bad combo, if you ask me."

Xu looked down at the floor, fidgeting while she thought to herself.

"The plan isn't changing," Xu said at last. "As long as we can keep the sorceress somewhat contained, she shouldn't pose a problem."

"That's just it," Dax said. "We can't keep her contained. She's nuts, man."

"She's emotional," Xu said. "She's frightened. She's a teenage girl who just picked a fight with one of the most powerful nations in the world. I, frankly, would be more concerned if she didn't show any signs of stress. That would imply that she was on the verge of a mental breakdown."

Zell wanted to disagree with her, but he was afraid he might accidentally let something slip about the weird feelings he'd had around her. He knew the smartest option for him was to stay silent, so he bit his tongue.

"The breakdown's already happened," Dax said. "She's fully snapped. I say we scram."

"That is not your decision to make," Xu said, testily.

Dax glanced over his shoulder, to make sure they were alone. Then he leaned forward, putting his head between Xu's and Zell's.

"We could kill her," Dax said, so softly Zell almost thought he misheard him.

"No," Xu said firmly. "We can't."

Dax shrugged. "I say we keep the option open," he said, still whispering. "Without the sorceress, all this nonsense will stop. Then there won't be a war at all. Galbadia will withdraw and SeeD won't have to stick their necks out defending a bunch of crazy people in the woods. The whole situation gets fixed and only one person dies. It's the best solution."

(It's not that easy.)

Zell shook his head, already forgetting that he was trying to stay silent. "You can't just kill a sorceress," he said. "Someone has to take her power for her to die."

Dax smiled sarcastically. "I bet you'd make a great sorceress, Xu."

Xu was not amused. "Not happening."

"So then what?" Dax said. "What's the plan?"

"Galbadia is holding back for now," Xu said. "The sorceress has them scared and uncertain. We need to take advantage of that. We have to find ways to get in touch with as many people in as many different rebel factions as possible, get them all on the same page and working together. At the same time, we need to start getting more SeeDs into Timber. Not necessarily into the TV Station, but somewhere inside city limits. If Galbadia is dumb enough to give us time to organize and fortify some defenses, we could hunker down and make this into one hell of a war."

The desire to tell Xu everything, spill his guts to her about everything—about his experience with the sorceress, his feelings, everything—was almost overwhelming. With a supreme effort of will, he fought the urge down and said nothing at all.

"So how is she getting out of the TV Station unnoticed?" Dax asked. "Or getting the president back in?"

Xu shook her head. "I don't know. Riel mentioned a secret way to get to their hiding place, but he wouldn't say anymore. We have to trust them. They're cooperating with us, and that's the important thing."

Dax snorted.

Xu was not interested in his complaints. "That's the plan," she said. "And that's the end of the discussion. Now, we're not going to talk about any of this again unless I tell you otherwise. That's an order. Not a word, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dax and Zell muttered.

"Good," Xu said. She stood up, and the other two SeeDs stood up as well. As a group, they left the lobby, going in search of the sorceress and the other members of Forest Wolf.


	15. Chapter 15: Moving Again

_**Chapter 15**_

_**Moving Again**_

(Rinoa)

Outside the Presidential Palace, along the blue glass road that encircled the building, a portion of Esthar's army staged themselves for departure. Soldiers in tight-fitting gray uniforms with colorful helmets directed traffic for a fleet of armored vehicles, some equipped with mounted guns, some overloaded with dozens more soldiers. The vehicles formed a long line along the road, several dozen strong at least.

(It's so quiet.)

When Rinoa imagined an army massing for battle, she pictured heavy trucks rumbling down dirt roads, their tires kicking up mud. Soldiers shouting out commands, war machines grinding and churning, shaking the earth. But Esthar's weapons were nearly silent, floating just above the surface of the road. There was no rumble in the earth, no stink of exhaust in the air. Only a gentle hum, emitted by all the vehicles as they carried their weapons, soldiers, and supplies to their designated staging areas.

"This should all go pretty quickly," Laguna said. He, Squall, Rinoa, and Dr. Odine were outside the main entrance to the Presidential Palace, facing out towards the soldiers. Behind the group stood a cluster of Odine's aides in white lab coats. "We've had the plans for a recovery operation drawn up for a while. Just never got around to it. Other priorities, you know?"

"Lunatic Pandora iz most dangerous weapon in ze world," Odine muttered. "Should be first priority."

"Yeah, yeah," Laguna said. He ran a hand absently through his long black hair. "But with a sorceress here to help guard the convoy, it should be a lot safer for everyone to cross the plains."

Rinoa watched the long lines of soldiers and cars and heavy artillery. Every movement of theirs looked so rehearsed, so intentional, so easy. For these soldiers, combat was their job, and marching off to battle was just another day at work. Unlike them, Rinoa never really got accustomed to combat, no matter how many battles she'd survived.

While these soldiers had years of training drilled into their minds until they could fight without thinking, every battle for Rinoa was a frenzy of improvisation and panic. She bit her lip.

(I hope they aren't depending on me too much.)

One of the Esthar soldiers broke off from the rest of the group and jogged up to Rinoa and the others. His uniform had bright red markings at the joints, indicating a higher rank than the other blue-clad soldiers. Rinoa didn't fully understand the Esthar military's rank structure, but she understood that much at least. He gave a quick salute to the president, then spoke.

"Ready to move on your command, sir" the soldier said. His voice sounded robotic behind his full-faced helmet.

"Go ahead," Laguna said. "And good luck to you guys."

"Thank you, sir," the soldier said. He turned to Rinoa and Squall. "The sorceress and the SeeD will ride with Dr. Odine's aides in the transport truck."

("The sorceress and the SeeD?")

"We have names, you know," Rinoa said. She frowned at the soldier.

"Indeed," the soldier said dismissively. "You two are to ensure that the aides are protected, in case a monster breaks through the lines. Also, whatever assistance you can provide to clear a hole at the front of the convoy will help ease the operation."

"Understood," Squall said.

"Got it," Rinoa said.

"Good," the soldier said. "You and the aides, follow me to the transport truck."

As they moved to depart, Laguna leapt forward and grabbed Squall gently by the elbow. Squall, surprised, looked down at Laguna's hand, then up into Laguna's face. Laguna smiled shyly. Squall frowned.

"Hey, um… be careful, all right?" Laguna said. "Remember, the Lunatic Pandora's just a big floating moon rock. You guys are more important. If anything happens… if something goes wrong, just come right back here, okay? Abandon the mission if you have to. You've got my permission."

Squall narrowed his eyes, then shrugged off Laguna's hand. "We have it under control," he said.

Laguna nodded and stepped back. "Right," he said. "Good luck."

Rinoa, Squall, and the aides stepped forward, following after the Esthar soldier. Behind her, Rinoa could hear as Odine turned to Laguna and said, "Just a rock? You stupidest president we ever have! Lunatic Pandora iz highly advanced—"

And by then she was too far away to hear the rest of his ranting.

(I wonder why Laguna looked so concerned…)

She pushed the thought out of her mind and jogged to align herself side-by-side with Squall, then fell into step with him. She held his hand with one of hers, and gripped the inside of his arm with her other. Unlike with Laguna, Squall didn't shy away from her touch. She took a sort of comfort from that feeling, knowing that Squall—despite the fact that he was slowly getting better at accepting others—still allowed her and only her to have any sort of intimate contact with him. She squeezed his arm tighter, almost possessively.

He turned his head and looked at her.

"You nervous?" Squall asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Aren't you?"

Squall turned his eyes forward. Rinoa tried to read his expression, to get an insight into his thoughts before he could give them words. His lips twitched, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was reading words only he could see.

(He's picking his answers. Choosing the best one…)

Finally, after a few moments, he said, "I don't feel like I have much reason to be nervous. We've got a good chunk of Esthar's army escorting us. And we're only going up against monsters. All of us working together, I don't think we'll run into any major problems."

"I guess…" Rinoa said. She focused forward, still clinging to his arm as they walked. Behind them, almost a dozen aides followed, none of them in any great hurry to keep up with the fast strides of the Esthar soldier. They knew the convoy couldn't leave without them, so they were free to set their own pace. They chatted to each other, talking about various numbers and statistics and readings, all of which sounded like nothing but word soup to Rinoa.

An Esthar soldier noticed the group passing by and broke away from his allies. Nonchalantly, he locked step with Rinoa and Squall, holding his rifle angled towards the ground. Rinoa glanced at the soldier from the side of her eye. His uniform was identical to all the others, but he wore a small pouch strapped to the side of his waist.

"It's me," the soldier whispered. Rinoa was about to ask who "me" was supposed to be, when she recognized the man's voice, even though it was garbled behind the Esthar mask.

(Piet.)

"This is the only way I could come with you guys," Piet said. "Odine would ever let me travel with the rest of his aides. He's still mad about the… eh… nevermind. I'll tell you later."

Rinoa knew enough of Piet and Dr. Odine's past to understand their mutual dislike of each other, but she still thought that posing as a soldier to avoid Odine's wrath seemed excessive. How bad could a conflict between two scientists possibly be?

"Where'd you get the uniform?" Rinoa asked, keeping her voice low so no one around them could hear.

"Not important," Piet said. "Just don't blow my cover, okay? The faster I can get to Lunatic Pandora, the faster I can give you your answers."

Rinoa and Squall nodded, and continued marching on. Soon they got to the front of the line of vehicles and soldiers. There, parked behind a couple of artillery cars, waited a large, hovering supply truck. Instead of having a large cloth canvas covering the back—like the G-Army trucks had—the Esthar truck had a transparent blue dome, making the truck look like a colorful turtle. The Esthar soldier pushed a button on the bumper, and the blue dome vanished with a buzzing sound.

"Everybody on," the soldier said. The aides began climbing onto the smooth gray surface of the truck's bed. Squall stepped up, helping Rinoa up by gently pulling on her hand. She hopped up onto the truck, feeling her boots click on the hard metal surface.

Behind her, Piet wordlessly began to climb up onto the truck. With a hand, the Esthar soldier stopped him and pushed him back down.

"Civilians only," the soldier said. "Return to your unit, soldier."

Before Piet could respond, Squall knelt down and addressed the soldier. "He's with us. President Laguna gave him to us as a private bodyguard for the mission."

The lead soldier looked at Squall, then at Piet. He froze for a minute, apparently thinking it over. Then he dropped his hand.

"Is that so?" he asked. He grabbed Piet's arm and read the number printed on the shoulder pad of his uniform. "G114-S22. I've got your serial number, soldier. I'll look into your story when we get back. You'd better be telling the truth, or there'll be consequences."

"Y-yes, sir," Piet said.

The soldier released Piet, allowing him to climb aboard with the aides and Squall and Rinoa. When they were all aboard, the Esthar soldier pressed the button on the rear bumper again. The protective bubble quickly encased the back of the truck, filtering the outside world in shades of blue, and muffling the sounds of the city and the convoy.

"Thanks," Piet whispered to Squall. "I should have thought of a cover story. I thought the uniform alone would be good enough to fool 'em."

Squall grunted. "Maybe in the Galbadian army. But Esthar seems to keep better track of their personnel."

"True," Piet said.

Just when Rinoa was about to ask if they would have to sit on the floor, two rows of seats on either side, facing inward, rose up from hidden compartments in the truck bed. They were simple bucket seats, with over-the-shoulder safety harnesses attached to each chair. The aides sat down and strapped themselves in. Squall and Rinoa sat at the back, with Piet finding a seat beside them.

"Huh…" Squall said, admiring the truck's features. "The seats retract so they can carry both cargo and personnel with the same vehicle. Interesting."

Rinoa pulled the safety straps over her shoulder, then fastened a silver belt buckle at her waist. Squall leaned over to her and pulled on her straps to make sure they were tight, then smiled and nodded at her. She smiled back.

The handful of soldiers who were milling about outside the truck began to clear away, climbing onto nearby vehicles and into other transport trucks. Rinoa looked ahead, to try to see what was going on down the road, but the silver-colored cabin of the supply truck blocked her view. By leaning far back in her seat and angling her head, she could just barely see that the lead cars were getting in motion, starting their journey towards the Great Plains of Esthar and the Lunatic Pandora.

(We'll be fine…)

(It's just monsters…)

But the monsters that covered the Great Plains—remnants of the recent Lunar Cry—were only half of her worries. Even if the crossing to the Lunatic Pandora went flawlessly, it still meant that she was returning once more to the Lunatic Pandora. That weird, freakish pillar, flying above the fields, with its alien green innards. Where the Sorceress Adel had awoken after nearly two decades of forced slumber. Where the Sorceress Ultimecia took control of Rinoa for the second time in her life. Where time compression began, and the world had almost ended.

Even under the best circumstances, the Lunatic Pandora would always be a place filled with bad memories.

And then there was Piet sitting in the seat next to her, in his ill-fitting uniform, awkwardly holding his military-issue rifle and stinking vaguely of plastic and rubber. He had promised to give her answers, if she could bring him to the Lunatic Pandora so that he could study it up close. But what if they got all the way out there, and he couldn't?

(Or what if he can, and the answers are something terrible?)

(Or what if he can, and he's going to try to use the Fount for himself?)

The memory of Adel's massacre of her tribe was still fresh in Rinoa's mind. Ideally, she would want to find a way to make sure that no one in the world ever possessed such power again. But Piet was a scientist. It was his nature want to study Hyne's Fount, contain it, control it. Perhaps even use it. For that reason, despite Piet's many assurances to the contrary, she would never trust him so long as the power of Hyne's Fount was free and accessible.

(We have to destroy it.)

The truck drifted smoothly forward, not rumbling or shaking as a regular truck would. It felt like being driven along in an elevator, only this one went forwards and backwards, rather than up and down.

The irregular blue buildings of Esthar city passed with growing velocity as the caravan of vehicles gained speed, heading further and further from the center of the city. Rinoa looked to Squall from the side of her eyes. This was their second day in Esthar, and Squall had never once stopped admiring the city. His eyes traced along the oddly shaped buildings, across the blue glass roads, and to the mysterious pillars and glowing structures that had purposes only the people of Esthar could understand. Squall was fascinated by the technology, by the many wonders the scientific minds of Esthar had created.

Rinoa, though, felt like a foreigner.

(This isn't like home.)

In the truck, Odine's aides talked amiably with each other. She wondered if they would want to interrogate her, to learn more about the sorceress, about her powers, about her past. Not that she knew enough about sorceresses to be able to answer most of their questions, but she expected them to ask nonetheless.

Yet they were all occupied talking about the Lunatic Pandora, examining complicated schematics on handheld computers, discussing Odine's theories about the Pandora, back before Laguna had sunk it into the ocean. Wondering what sort of effects years under the sea had had on the machinery. They were a highly focused group of people, and at that time, their focus was on their destination, not the sorceress sitting next to them.

(It's better this way, I guess. I don't wanna talk to them anyway.)

An unseen intercom in the back of the truck came to life, as the driver spoke to his passengers. The aides hushed their chatter and listened.

"The plains are visible now," he said through the speakers. "No monsters yet, but that's not surprising. We expect first contact after we get a few minutes outside the city. Be ready."

The speakers shut off, and the aides resumed muttering their plans. The defense of the convoy was out of the aides' control, so there was nothing for them to do but sit and talk and hope the people around them were up to the task. Rinoa looked for something to occupy her mind, to keep her from worrying.

Reluctantly, she turned to Piet to distract her.

"How come, if you guys have flying cars," Rinoa said, "Why don't we just fly over the monsters?"

There was an odd snuffling sound coming from behind Piet's mask. His body was lightly shaking. After a moment, she realized that he was laughing at her. A flush of blood ran to her face, a mixture of both embarrassment and resentment.

"That's not how they work," Piet said. "It's… too complicated to explain." He waved his hand, ignoring her question.

Rinoa balled up her hands into fists. "My father used to say that if you couldn't explain something, it meant you didn't understand it."

That remark got to Piet. His laughter stopped, and he turned to look at her, his face obscured by his mask. Though she hated quoting her father, she liked the effect her words had on the scientist.

"Fine," he said, bitterly. "First off, they're not 'flying cars.' They don't generate lift by manipulating wind currents like an airplane. They use stored-cell para-magic thrusters to move orthogonally through space. The energy is primarily unidirectional, meaning if they are traveling forward, they cannot travel upwards and vice-versa. The amount of energy required to suspend the vehicle high enough above the ground to avoid the monsters would negate the thrusters' ability to propel the vehicle forward. The thrusters cannot bear the burden of simultaneous forward propulsion and high-level vertical suspension. At least, not if we want to maintain any worthwhile speed. We could, in theory, travel over the monsters, but it'd take a week."

(Now he's just being a bratty little snob.)

"Does that answer your question?" Piet said. Though she couldn't see his face, she could hear the derisive sneer in his voice.

But she understood more of his explanation than she let on. Just because she didn't often use big words, didn't mean she was unaware of their meaning. Still, she decided to let him have his petty, passive-aggressive victory, if only to avoid an argument.

"Yeah, thanks," Rinoa said.

(Jerk.)

Finally the crystal-blue architecture of the city ended abruptly in an endless field of gray-white sand as the truck descended down towards the ground and out of Esthar. The long, thin snake of the convoy kicked up a plume of dust as it traveled on.

The intercom turned on again.

"Monsters on the horizon," the driver said. "Expect contact in the next few minutes. SeeD and sorceress, on your marks."

Now that they were clear of the city and heading towards imminent danger, the aides toned down their chatter. Some looked anxiously at Rinoa and Squall, or at Piet sitting next to them. After a few moments of awkward glances, one of the aides addressed her.

"Will the protective shield around the transport truck interfere with your magic?" the aide asked.

(Um…)

She hadn't considered that. She looked around, at the faintly blue shield that encased them all. She'd never attempted to cast her magic _through_ something before. And she had no clue what the barrier was made of. If it was some sort of magical-technological hybrid device, there was no telling what it might do to her spells.

"I don't know," Rinoa admitted. "I've never tried it."

"Then, perhaps a test is in order?" the aide said. "Just to be sure."

Rinoa nodded. "Right."

"We should have done this before we left," another aide muttered.

As Rinoa reached down inside herself to find her magic, she thought of the last time she had experienced the power of casting a spell. It was back in Adel's past, with Adel's body, as she surged with the energy of Hyne's Fount, laying waste to her friends and her family, destroying her people in one crushing wave of hatred and madness.

The memory came clear to her mind, breaking her concentration, making her lose her grip on her spell.

(That was Adel, not you.)

To clear her mind, she thought back to the last time she herself had personally cast a spell. At first she thought it was over a month ago, in Ultimecia's castle, but she remembered that there had been a couple occasions since then. A few days after time compression, for instance, Squall had taken her out to the Garden training center to keep their combat skills sharp. She'd been by his side, casting magic to help him take down the swarms of grats that infested the training center.

But there was another time, only days before Garden returned to Balamb Island, when it was still drifting along in the ocean, with no direction and no definite future. She had gone out, alone, to the second floor balcony to listen to the waves and smell the salt air. In the sky, a few seagulls chased after Garden, hoping to land on it and take a break from flying across the ocean.

She had watched the gulls as they flew in the wake of Garden, flapping their wings, then gliding, flapping, then gliding. But despite their efforts, the sea breeze was blowing in their faces and they were falling behind. Feeling pity, she reached into herself and redirected the wind. She angled it behind the birds and pushed them, lifting them forward and helping them catch up to Garden.

Once they were close enough, they settled along Garden's architecture, along the windows and the balcony, along the front gate, resting, squawking, and grooming their tired wings.

The simple, peaceful memory brought a smile to her face.

(I'm not Adel. I'm not Ultimecia.)

With that memory in her mind, she easily found her magic. She looked up into the sky, filtered through the bubble of the transport truck, and called up a wind spell, reaching for the air just beyond the barrier. Inside the truck the air was motionless, but outside the dust whirled, caught up in the turbulence of her magic. With an effort of will, she pushed the wind outwards, sending it perpendicular to the truck. It carved a line into the distance, without disturbing the passengers or the rest of the convoy.

She put her arm down and relaxed. The spell faded, the wind died down.

The aides nodded, pleased with the results, then began chattering with each other again. This time, their topics included her, her abilities, and the effects of the barrier and its relation to magic.

(Those guys never really stop, do they?)

"Good to know," Squall said.

"Contact," the driver of the truck said over the intercom. He sounded bored, as if reading from a script he'd read a thousand times before. "SeeD and sorceress, prepare for defense. Everyone else, keep alert."

The intercom shut off, and the aides stopped talking. Piet stiffened in his chair, clutching his rifle. Squall gripped the handle of his gunblade with one hand, and Rinoa's hand with the other. Rinoa's heart trembled when she realized that Squall had reached for her first, rather than waiting for her to make the first move.

She squeezed his hand, and looked outside.

The first wave of monsters, pushed back from the city limits by near-constant Esthar patrolling and attacks, began to draw themselves towards the convoy, emerging from behind hills and around rocks. Big, lumbering monsters with hairy, multi-color arms and beastly heads ran across the earth. Smaller, flying monsters with too many eyes and almost humanlike hands sped ahead of them. Creatures both familiar to Rinoa and creatures entirely new to the planet massed in clusters of dozens, hundreds, painting the gray sand with their many colors, bearing down on the convoy.

(They're just monsters. Nothing new.)

Once more, she reached inside herself and pulled out the magic. She extended her hand forward, aiming for the distant monsters, and she pushed. With her hand, with her heart, with her magic, she called up wind that scattered the monsters' ranks, sending the flying creatures crashing hard to the ground, and causing the big, lumbering ones to trip on their feet and fall.

She kept up a steady current of wind, knocking down monsters by the score, then by the hundreds. But the convoy continued on and the endless array of monsters continued barreling down on them, drawing ever closer. For every dozen she stunned or killed, a hundred rose up and carried on in their place. The recent Lunar Cry had coated the planet with millions and millions of monsters, and every single one landed here in the Esthar Plains.

(It's not enough.)

The convoy, her magic, everything. There just wasn't enough force in the world to repel all these monsters. She realized then why Esthar had not attempted this crossing earlier: it was almost suicide.

The first of the monsters got into range of Esthar's weapons, and the flanking cars opened fire. Rear-mounted artillery blasted pink and blue lasers into the monster horde, cutting the creatures in halves and blowing off limbs. The monsters shrieked inhumanly, tearing at their wounded bodies before collapsing into death, their bodies shriveling into dust.

Other soldiers in transport trucks lowered their protective barriers and aimed their rifles out of their vehicles, firing wildly. Accuracy was not a concern. There were so many monsters flooding the plains that a shot fired in any direction was bound to hit something.

Both the convoy and the assault continued. But now they had reached the heart of the monster swarm, and the convoy was cutting through it like a knife. The monsters approaching from the sides were no longer the biggest concern; now the Esthar guns focused forward, clearing a path through the beasts as they fought their way towards the Lunatic Pandora.

Monsters were shredded to pieces by the Esthar artillery, the brilliant laser beams as silent as the rest of Esthar's technology. Rinoa continued her steady blast of wind, holding the monsters at bay, and she thought distantly of what Piet said earlier. About how monsters carried energy from the moon, and with their deaths, they fed that energy into the planet and into Hyne's Fount.

If Piet was right, if Hyne's Fount existed and worked as he believed, then the power being fed into it by this convoy was unimaginable. She thought of what a sorceress could do with that kind of energy. She thought of what Adel had done with that power before.

She felt her spell waver as her focus drifted.

(No! I'm not like them!)

Flying monsters broke over the tide of monstrosities and attacked the convoy from above, diving and swooping, crashing into nearby vehicles, knocking soldiers off their trucks, where they disappeared, screaming, into the sea of creatures. Rinoa turned her wind on the flying beasts, directing all her energy upwards at them. They were blown away like leaves, falling into the churning mass of their kin, crushed under the relentless press of advancing monsters.

The assault went on, and on, and on. The convoy cut a path through the monsters just wide enough to accommodate itself, allowing the monsters to get close enough for Rinoa to make out the details of their bodies. Close enough for her to see the watery, inhuman gaze in their eyes, their terrible hooked claws, their rows and rows of jagged teeth. The Esthar soldiers fired their weapons, Rinoa pushed with her wind, and the monsters died and broke apart.

And yet, they kept coming.

It was like fighting against the rising tide, armed only with a bucket. The monsters swarmed, and they encased the convoy on all sides with their sheer numbers. Squall unbuckled himself from his chair and got to his feet, casting spells of all kinds and all colors into the horde, spinning around and cutting down anything that got too close. His spells, like Rinoa's, passed easily through the bubble, leaving the people inside the truck unharmed as he blasted fire and lightning and ice into the multitudes. But he was not a sorceress, and even his best spells paled compared to the hurricane that Rinoa was currently summoning.

And then, finally, the pillar that was the Lunatic Pandora emerged through the haze of dust and monsters. It was the single biggest building Rinoa had ever seen, towering over the plains like a monument made by a god. The sigil of Esthar, the white crescent moon and star, was emblazoned proudly on each of the Pandora's four sides. Even though, from a distance, the sigils appeared to be no bigger than Rinoa's thumbnail, she knew that if she were to take one of those symbols down and lay it flat on the ground, she could build a small town on it and comfortably house everyone she had ever known in her life. And yet these massive sigils occupied only a fraction of the total surface area of the colossus called Lunatic Pandora.

(How do we get inside?)

She focused on her wind spell, ensuring that she, Squall, and the others would safely complete the journey to find the answer to her question. She'd been blasting her magic for quite some time now, but still was only a little fatigued. With their goal in sight, she redoubled her efforts, widening and strengthening her spell for the final push.

Squall, however, was flagging. Sweat formed on his brow, and with each spell he cast, he strained his face more and more with the added effort. The thought occurred to Rinoa that only a few weeks earlier, she had been a helpless girl who could barely do anything without Squall's help and support. Now, she was utterly eclipsing him, like the Lunatic Pandora eclipsed all of them.

If she was this powerful _without_ the help of Hyne's Fount…

(No, I won't even think about that.)

She held her focus, held her magic, and fought through the last moments of the battle. Soon, the transport truck arrived at Tears' Point, the site of numerous statues and cube-shaped power cells that Rinoa could only guess the purpose of. Broken cubes of crystal formed concentric rings around the statues. Above them, the bright light emerging from the hole in the Pandora's exposed bottom glowed with the intensity of a green sun.

Once at Tears' Point, the surge of monsters finally began to slow, as the structures all around them formed a choke point, limiting how many monsters could attack at once. Now, finally, the Esthar artillery on its own was sufficient to keep the creatures at bay, allowing Squall and Rinoa a chance to rest. Rinoa dropped her hands and slumped in her chair, tired, but still able to fight if she needed to. Squall, gasping, stumbled over to his seat and collapsed into it, his gunblade held limply in his hand. He hung his head and looked at his feet, sweat dripping down his hair.

Rinoa put a hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "Just a little… winded."

Nevertheless, Rinoa sent a little healing spell into his muscles, easing their tension. Squall sighed with relief as the energy coursed through his body.

"That was quite a show you two put on," one of Dr. Odine's aides said. "Truly, the power of the sorceress—and the power of SeeD—is a force to be reckoned with. I'm not sure the convoy would have survived without you."

The other aides murmured in agreement. Rinoa looked around at them. Some seemed impressed, a few were curious, and more than one eyed her with suspicion and fear.

(Some people are afraid of sorceresses…)

(Can't say I blame them.)

The transport truck paused directly beneath the Lunatic Pandora, the sounds of Esthar artillery still firing through the air, repelling the monsters. There was a buzzing sound as the thrusters shifted from propelling the cars forward, to propelling the cars upward. Smoothly, the vehicle shot straight up in the air, heading towards the big green sun in the bottom of Lunatic Pandora.

The light grew in intensity, until all the passengers aboard the truck had to shut their eyes to keep from being blinded. After a few seconds, the truck jerked as the driver shifted the thrusters again, sending the truck forward into the Lunatic Pandora. Rinoa kept her eyes shut against the light, so she could not see what happened next, but she could feel the truck shift as it changed direction once, twice, and then once more. Finally it came to a stop. The intercom came on and the driver said, in his usual bored tone, "We're here."

Rinoa opened her eyes finding herself and the others to be in a cavernous gray room. Large engines hung from the ceiling, emitting a low, steady hum as they worked to keep the Pandora afloat. The rest of the convoy had arrived; dozens and dozens of vehicles parked in neat rows along the solid gray floor.

Soldiers scrambled, regrouping into formations as their commanders shouted orders, counting their units and checking to ensure that all their troops had made the crossing. A few vehicles had been lost, some soldiers killed in action, but overall the mission seemed to have been a great success.

(That's good.)

A uniformed soldier approached the supply truck and pushed the button on its bumper, eliminating the blue protective bubble. The aides unbuckled themselves, stood up, and stretched. Piet rested his hand on Rinoa's shoulder keeping her from standing up.

"Hold on," Piet said softly. "We have to try to get away from the group."

Rinoa stayed in her seat.

"If you'll all follow me," the soldier outside the truck said.

The soldier took a step to the side as the aides filed down the length of the truck and hopped off the back. Piet slowly got to his feet, allowing the aides to shuffle around him. Squall and Rinoa waited as well. When all the aides were off, Piet jumped down, followed by Squall and Rinoa. With a curt nod to the group, the soldier walked them through the rows of parked cars, past the soldiers, and towards a large gray staircase that led up into a glass tunnel.

Piet followed slowly, his head turning side to side, trying to find a place where the three could inconspicuously break away, but there were too many soldiers around, and the tunnel ahead appeared to be the only access deeper inside. Rinoa felt constantly watched from all sides.

At the mouth of the tunnel a platoon of Esthar soldier waited, standing in perfect formation, hands clutching their rifles. The soldier stepped off to the side and gestured at the platoon.

"These men will escort you to the control room," he said.

He nodded his farewell to the aides, then hurried back down the stairs to rejoin the other soldiers. The platoon leader—his uniform distinguished from the others with yellow joint patches—shouted out a command to his troops, and they divided cleanly in half, one half standing in front of the aides, the other half guarding behind. Piet looked around, saw that they were completely sandwiched between the guards, then muttered a curse under his breath.

(Looks like we won't be able to just sneak away quietly.)

The good news was that no one was making a fuss about Piet. The soldiers seemed content to let him follow Rinoa and Squall around without comment. Rinoa didn't know Esthar military procedure, but even she could tell that he was carrying himself all wrong, holding his rifle improperly, and acting out of place. If she were a soldier, she'd probably be asking Piet a few questions about who he was and what he was doing, but nothing of the sort happened.

Instead the soldiers, with the aides pressed between their ranks, marched down the glass tunnel. The Esthar soldiers' boots hit the floor in perfect unison, creating a steady drumbeat that echoed in the tunnel. Rinoa glanced at Squall and smiled to herself when she noticed that he was unconsciously keeping in step with the rest of the soldiers.

(I guess it's a habit for him.)

Piet, noticeably, was not. Rinoa took a vindictive sense of pride knowing that the scientist was not as clever or as observant as he believed himself to be. He couldn't even blend in with the troops and match their movements.

The tunnel led deeper inside. Through the glass that surrounded them, Rinoa could see an endless tangle of gray and black wires, ventilation pipes big enough for her to crawl through, and rectangular metal boxes containing what she assumed were machines.

The glass tunnel formed a bridge between the machines the Esthar scientists had built to house and transport the Lunatic Pandora, and the alien green rock that formed the enormous Crystal Pillar—the true wonder of the Lunatic Pandora, and the source of its energy and mystery.

The group reached the end of the tunnel, stepping off into the green crystal. The hard surface was smooth and slippery, carved with deep scratches and dents. The walls, ceiling, and floor pulsed with green light, slowly growing brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again, as if the Crystal Pillar was breathing.

The platoon of soldiers guided the civilians through rock crevasses, and through glass bridges that spanned deep chasms. Throughout the journey, weak monsters threw themselves at the pack. They were small, shriveled things with frail bodies. A quick chatter from a soldier's gun could easily bring them all down. Even the larger, more intimidating ones succumbed easily to a few bullets, as if all the monsters were already on the edge of death and needed only a slight push to send them the rest of the way.

(So that much hasn't changed since the last time we were here.)

At last, the group reached a small elevator, with the number "10" printed on the front. The transparent shaft extended straight up, disappearing into the high green ceiling. The front half of the platoon stopped and stepped aside.

"This elevator goes directly to the control room," the platoon leader said. He gestured at the elevator with his rifle. "I'll send a few of my men up with you to ensure that it's safe. Will there be anything else?"

"No, I believe we have it under control," one of the aides said. He nodded. "Thank you, commander."

The soldier nodded. With quick hand motions, he singled out some troops and ordered them to follow the aides into the elevator. With the four soldiers, dozen or so aides, plus Squall, Rinoa, and Piet all trying to get into the elevator at once, they created a rather ridiculous scene, having to jam themselves in tightly in order to fit. One of the aides suggested going in two trips, but that idea was shot down when another aide said that it was best if they all stayed together.

A soldier's elbow was jammed painfully into Rinoa's back, and her face was pressed into another's shoulder. Rinoa wriggled to try to free up some breathing space for herself, but there was none to be had. One of the aides reached through the tangle of bodies and pushed a button inside the elevator. The elevator rose smoothly upwards.

The glass walls of the elevator allowed Rinoa to look out, between the bodies around her, to the mix of Esthar technology and alien rock that surrounded her. Aside from the glass tunnels that bridged gaps and connected distance parts of the Crystal Pillar, she really didn't understand much of what she could see. Everything before her was either glowing rocks from the moon, or else futuristic glowing machinery from the silent nation of Esthar.

(It's like being on another planet.)

The elevator stopped at the top floor, on one side of a circular control room. The doors opened, and the Esthar soldiers stepped out first, quickly, with their rifles drawn. They scanned the room, top to bottom, and concluded that it was safe, only to discover that all the aides had stepped out on their own, to escape the crushing atmosphere of the elevator.

"Oh… no," one of the aides moaned, looking around the room. He raised his hands to the air and dropped them back to his sides, as he approached the long, gray control panel that encircled most of the room. As Rinoa got closer, she was able to see that the panels bore deep slashes and scorch marks. Some of the wiring inside the computers still spat out sparks. All the machines were all off, all the monitors were black—the ones that weren't smashed beyond recognition.

"Was it monsters?" an aide asked.

"No, this was deliberate," another said. "Someone didn't want anyone to pilot the Pandora away from this spot, so they sabotaged the controls."

"Seifer," Squall muttered. He crossed his arms and glanced to the side.

"So now what?" Rinoa asked. To her surprise, one of the aides turned and answered her question. She'd gotten accustomed to the aides not really paying attention to her.

"We need to get the Pandora back to Esthar in order to properly study it," the aide said. "So we'll need to repair the damage and get the controls working again. We have all the tools we need, but still, it could take days for us to finish. The damage is extensive."

Rinoa's heart dropped straight down into her boots. Just the thought of being enclosed in this freakish green pillar for days on end, trapped with the weird little monsters and the soldiers in their strange uniforms was enough to send Rinoa into the beginnings of a panic attack.

"D… days?" Rinoa said. She gulped.

"Well, yes," the aide said. "Not to worry, we anticipated that there might be problems with the controls. Several of the supply trucks in the convoy are carrying food and shelter. Enough for all of us. We will not want for anything during our stay here, I assure you."

(We can't stay here!)

Squall voiced her objection before she was able to.

"I'm sorry, but a long-term stay is impossible for the two of us," he said. "What about the Ragnarok? Can we use that to get back to Esthar?"

"The Ragnarok?" the aide said. His face suddenly lit up in recognition. "Well, yes, I suppose that could be helpful. If you really need to leave so urgently, we can arrange for the Ragnarok to transport you back to Esthar."

Apparently sensing his first chance to break away from the group, Piet stepped forward. "I will take them," he said. "Escort them, I mean."

The aide scoffed. "Have you got a pilot's license?"

Piet mumbled something in his mask, but didn't answer the question.

(Selphie never had a pilot's license.)

Rinoa smiled with the memory.

"I didn't think so," the aide said. "Wait here and we'll arrange for a properly trained soldier to escort you to the Ragnarok, then take you back to Esthar."

Piet fidgeted with his gun, trying to think of an excuse to break away from the others.

Squall had the answer. "No need to bring a pilot all the way down here," he said calmly. "Our guard can escort us to the Ragnarok. Just make sure a pilot is sent directly there. It'll save time for everyone."

The aide nodded, "Indeed." He turned to the other Esthar soldiers. "Go and find someone with a pilot's license and send them to the Ragnarok, to escort the sorceress and the SeeD back to Esthar."

(They still don't use our names…)

"Sir," one of the soldiers said, presumably the soldier with the highest rank.

The aide looked at Rinoa and Squall sternly.

"We are here to conduct delicate research. I ask that you proceed directly to the Ragnarok, and do not disturb anything on the way. Understood?"

Rinoa and Squall nodded.

The aide looked at Piet. "Make sure they don't get lost, or take any side trips."

Piet nodded and did a passable salute. "Sir," he said.

(Seems like his soldier's outfit was a good idea after all.)

Squall, Rinoa, Piet, and the soldiers filed into the elevator. Without the aides, the elevator was much roomier, and didn't make Rinoa feel like she was being crushed to death.

The elevator arrived back down at the bottom, and the soldiers reunited with their platoon. One of the soldiers communicated the aide's request for a pilot to the platoon leader, and the platoon turned and marched back the way they'd come, towards the staging area for the Esthar convoy. None of them seemed to notice the Rinoa or the others standing there.

For the first time, Piet, Squall, and Rinoa were left totally alone in the Lunatic Pandora.

"Success!" Piet said, excitedly. "You are a smooth operator, Squall."

"Let's move quickly," Squall said. "If we don't show up at the Ragnarok soon, they'll come looking for us."

"Right," Piet said. He looked around. Three tunnels extended from this section of the Crystal Pillar, including the one leading back to the convoy. It wasn't clear where any of them went, and none of them were marked with any directions or anything to distinguish them. He randomly picked a direction and started jogging down it. "Uhhh… Let's go this way."

Rinoa and Squall chased after him.

(Does he know where he's going?)

She doubted it. But it didn't really matter anyway. As far as Rinoa was aware, Piet didn't need to find any specific location; he just needed a secluded spot to do his research undisturbed. And with the sheer size of the Crystal Pillar, it surely had hundreds of good spots to stay hidden.

As they ran, Squall drew his gunblade and hacked at any monsters that tried to approach from the sides or from behind, leaving Rinoa nothing to do but keep up and watch, as the trio went down random green hallways and metal walkways, across bridges, and down more tunnels, heading deeper into the Lunatic Pandora, until she was sure that not only were they unlikely to be disturbed, they were unlikely to ever find their way back out.

Finally they came to a dead end, the path ending abruptly in a massive green wall of stone.

"This will suffice," Piet said. He approached the wall, then dropped to one knee. He reached into the pouch at his waist and began pulling out an array of small devices, none of which Rinoa could recognize. Some he placed against the green stone, and others he set aside for later use. Squall checked around, then strapped his gunblade to his waist. Rinoa rubbed one arm with her hand, idly.

"So… what are you testing for?" Rinoa asked Piet.

"I'm not sure yet," Piet said, adjusting one of his tools. "I'm kind of testing for everything right now. I have a few theories, and I'm working on eliminating possibilities. I need to… huh. That's odd."

Squall stepped forward. "What is it?" he asked.

Piet didn't answer. Instead he picked up another of his tools and examined it. Then another and another. He tapped one device that looked like a glowing screwdriver against the stone, then looked at it again.

"That's… unusual," Piet said.

"Something wrong?" Rinoa asked.

"All of my gauges are giving bad readings," he said. "According to this one, we should all be experiencing five hundred times normal gravity." He picked up another one. "This one says that there's no oxygen in the room. This one can't decide if it's boiling or freezing, and this one thinks it's twenty years in the future. They're all wrong. Really, really wrong."

He held his gauges in his hands, looking at them helplessly.

"Are they calibrated?" Squall asked. He shrugged.

Piet turned on him. Even with his mask, Rinoa could sense his contemptuous glare. "Yes, they're calibrated. I did that before we left. Something is making them go haywire, and I think it's the Crystal Pillar. Whatever has changed here in the past few days is having an effect on my tools. This… might be more trouble than I originally thought."

Rinoa sighed in frustration.

(I should have known he couldn't help us.)

"So what can you do?" Rinoa asked.

"I can fix them…" Piet said, adjusting a dial on his screwdriver tool. "I hope. If it's any consolation, the recent odd behavior of the Crystal Pillar supports my theory, so it's not all bad news."

Squall crossed his arms. "What's your theory?"

Piet resumed adjusting his instruments. "It's just a hypothesis actually. A crazy one, maybe. I don't want to say anything about it until I'm sure."

"I still wanna hear anyway," Rinoa said. "I came here for answers. I wanna know what you know."

Piet sighed. He reached to his neck and unsnapped a clip on his uniform. With one hand, he peeled his helmet off his head, revealing his tangled, sweat-matted hair and sticky skin. He took a breath, clearly enjoying the fresh air. He tossed the helmet to the side. He talked to Squall and Rinoa while setting up his instruments, calibrating them, and checking the results of their measurements.

"As you know, I was stationed on the Lunar Base, studying the moon," Piet said. "Of particular interest to me was the origin of monsters. We already know that the monsters on the planet come from the moon, falling during a Lunar Cry. But where do the monsters on the moon come from?"

One of Piet's gauges beeped. He pushed a button on it, read the readout, and resumed talking and fidgeting with his devices.

"We always assumed they reproduced normally," Piet said. "Like plants and animals. The prevailing theory was that our atmosphere or our higher gravity somehow restricted monster reproduction, only allowing them to birth new monsters on the moon. Part of my job was to confirm or deny this theory.

"But we saw no evidence of reproduction at all. For years, we were up there, tracking the monsters, studying their movements, their origins. They never reproduced, sexually or asexually, yet there always seemed to be more and more each day. It was a complete mystery."

Piet glanced up from his instruments. "It was if they… just appeared out of nowhere. From nothing."

He turned back to his work and resumed his story.

"One of my aides, who had previously worked with Odine during the Lunatic Pandora project, was the first to suggest the idea that maybe monsters _were_ just appearing out of nowhere. Of course, we laughed at the absurdity of the idea, until he compared evidence gathered from the Lunatic Pandora with our evidence gathered from the moon.

"Turns out, new monsters were always appearing inside the Lunatic Pandora, even after soldiers had combed through every inch, again and again. Odine, of course, was not interested in studying monsters, so he ignored this little detail. The Sorceress Adel had commissioned the project, and she only wanted to know how to use the Crystal Pillar as a weapon. So Odine dismissed all the unusual monster activity and focused on using the Lunatic Pandora to deliberately instigate a Lunar Cry.

"Obviously, no reasonable scientist believes that energy or matter can come from nothing, so we set to work brainstorming ideas as to where the monsters were coming from. And combining evidence obtained from the Lunatic Pandora with evidence from the moon pointed to one clear solution."

Piet paused and fidgeted with his work. Squall sighed loudly.

"Skip the dramatic pauses," Squall said. "Just finish the story."

"Fine," Piet said, grumpily. He turned to Rinoa. "Our current theory is that the moon—and individual parts of the moon, like the Crystal Pillar—are able to physically connect two distant points in space. Possibly even two points in time itself. This would explain the Lunar Cry. If the Crystal Pillar can forge some kind of a link between the moon and the planet, it makes sense that monsters could travel along this link, like a bridge. Also, it explains monster origins. The moon is not creating monsters, nor is it serving to incubate them. It's just pulling in monsters from somewhere else. Another place, or maybe another time period altogether."

"Like where?" Rinoa asked. "Or when?"

Piet shrugged, and turned back to his instruments. "We may never know the answer to that. I don't think that's the most interesting part of this theory anyway."

Squall rubbed his chin. "If the Crystal Pillar can pull monsters from other places, or other times," he said. "Then why are all the monsters in here so unusually weak?"

Piet raised a finger and pointed at Squall. "Exactly. That was something we couldn't figure out, until we started combining our research with our theories about Hyne's Fount. Remember how I said that monsters contain energy? When they die, their energy is absorbed by the planet, forming the power source known as Hyne's Fount.

"I believe that it's incorrect to think of monsters as whole and independent units, like animals, plants, and humans. It's better to imagine them more as somewhat sentient energy forms. The Pandora—or the moon—they draw energy from some other source, and that energy collects together into a mass and forms monsters. The strength of the monsters depends on the amount of energy collected. The Crystal Pillar, being only a tiny fragment fallen from the moon, is only able to draw out a little energy. Thus we have little, weak monsters running around. You see?"

Rinoa tried to think through the ramifications of what Piet was saying. Squall's tightened expression showed that he too, was thinking it over carefully. It was just a massive amount of information and possibilities to take in all at once.

(It makes sense. This could be right.)

"If, let's say…" Squall said. "… Let's say that right now the Crystal Pillar is drawing monsters—or energy, anyway—from another time, rather than another place. That would explain why the sorceresses from time compression are coming to our time. They stumble upon the link made by the Crystal Pillar, and travel along it to the present. It's a lot like the Lunar Cry, only instead of linking the planet and the moon, it's linking two points in time, and the sorceresses are traveling along the link and coming here."

Piet clapped once. "You know, you've got more sense than ninety percent of the idiots who call themselves 'scientists' in this damned city." Piet looked at Rinoa. "You got yourself a good one here."

Rinoa smiled and clutched Squall's arm. "I know."

Squall shrugged to himself, ignoring the praise. "But it's not a perfect answer. If that's true, then why don't the sorceresses come directly to the Crystal Pillar? Why do they go to draw points instead? And if the theory is true, then why hasn't this sort of thing happened before? What caused the Pandora to start acting up now of all times?"

"All good questions," Piet said, returning to his instruments. "And I intend to get you some answers. Soon as I can calibrate these stupid instruments…"

Squall held a hand over his mouth, pensively rubbing his jaw. Rinoa allowed herself to drift off in thought as well. The Lunar Cry, the moon, and monsters were all subjects she'd studied in school, but they were never taught as extensively as subjects like history or math. At most, monsters and the Lunar Cry could expect to have a single chapter devoted to them in a science textbook, and little more. She wished she knew more concrete data, so she could ask better questions and help fact-check Piet's theories. But, unfortunately, she didn't. Only Esthar and SeeD seemed interested in the intricacies of magic, sorceresses, and the like.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of marching feet coming from the tunnel behind them. Squall whipped around and looked for a place to hide, but there was nowhere. The tunnel had no cracks or crevices to escape into, and the only way out was back into the tunnel. Piet scrambled to pick up his instruments and stuff them back into his pouch. He snapped the pouch shut, picked up his rifle, snatched up his helmet and shoved it on, then stood next to Rinoa.

"Stay calm," Piet said. "I'll get your answers. Trust me."

(What does he mean?)

Just then, a half dozen Esthar soldiers rounded the corner and stumbled upon the group.

"Hey! This is a restricted area!" one of the soldiers yelled. "You two! You were supposed to report to the Ragnarok!"

"They ran off, sir!" Piet said. "I-I just cornered them in here."

Rinoa gaped at Piet, then frowned. He showed no reaction to her, but then, his mask still obscured his face.

The nearest soldier motioned with his rifle. "Come along, you two. We're heading to the Ragnarok. No more wasting our time."

Rinoa sighed as she and Squall followed after the soldiers, leaving Piet behind in the dead-end tunnel. Rinoa looked over her shoulder at Piet. He nodded and gave her a thumbs up. She stuck her tongue out at him.

(He'd better come up with some really good answers…)

For a few minutes, Rinoa entertained the idea of knocking out the soldiers and going back to talk with Piet some more. Or at the very least, stick around so that she could keep an eye on him. She was beginning to wonder if his whole routine about his haywire instruments was an act, or if something really was wrong with his tools.

She ground her teeth and fidgeted as they walked along the tunnels, heading steadily upwards. There really weren't any opportunities for her to do anything at the moment. If Piet was really determined to hide something, then he could pretend his instruments were broken indefinitely. How would she or Squall ever know the difference? Eventually, Squall and Rinoa would have to head home, even if they fought off the whole Esthar army in order to stay where they were for as long as possible. This parting, it seemed, was unavoidable. There was no choice but to trust Piet and his intentions.

(I still think he's a jerk, though.)

The soldiers led Squall and Rinoa through the maze of the Crystal Pillar, until they got to a hallway that looked vaguely familiar. After a few more twists and turns and junctions, Rinoa recognized it as the same hallway she'd traveled when she and the SeeDs came to Lunatic Pandora almost a month previously.

(And if you go down this hallway all the way and turn, you'll end up at the place where we fought Seifer…)

Seifer.

Even though she hadn't seen him in a month, the effects of his betrayal were still being felt. The slashed-up control panel at the top of the Pandora was his doing, Rinoa had no doubt. Many of the problems with Ultimecia had been partly his fault as well. She wondered how much would have changed, what would have gone differently if Seifer hadn't turned his back on SeeD and joined with Ultimecia. Would the world be different now?

Or had Seifer been nothing more than an expendable pawn in Ultimecia's plans? If Seifer had stayed loyal to SeeD, would she have just found another ambitious, arrogant young man to be her knight in Seifer's place?

(No sense in worrying about that. It's over and done with.)

The soldiers brought them to a large room inside the outer edge of the Lunatic Pandora. There—lodged in a massive hole of its own creation and lording over a pile of rubble, like a dragon coveting its heaps of gold—was the red, scowling face of the Ragnarok spaceship.

The ship was dangerous and intimidating, but far more familiar to Rinoa than the Lunatic Pandora. Rinoa was happy to be guided up the ramp and into the opening in the chest of the ship. Instantly, she felt at ease, the alien discomfort of the Crystal Pillar all but forgotten. She recognized the hallways, remembering where she and Squall had cleared the monsters out, the room where Laguna and the others had met for their final briefing. The Ragnarok, unlike the Lunatic Pandora, was a place of good memories for her.

The rush of memories made her homesick. She was tired of Esthar's confusing technology, its obsession with elevators, lifts, and tunnels. She was tired of being an outsider, a foreigner. Although she and Squall didn't have perfect answers to their questions, they still had a far greater knowledge of what was going on the in the world than they had previously. She was eager to return to Garden, to check on Timber, and share with the others all she'd learned in the past few days. For once, she hoped that Squall would choose to be silent, and let her do all the explaining.

The thought of the other's expressions when she told all she'd learned brought a smile to her face. Especially Zell. He always had a tendency to make her feel like she was an amazing storyteller, because he was so vivid and animated with his reactions to every detail of a story. Every revelation was like a world-changing event for him.

(Yeah, I think I'm ready go home…)

Squall and Rinoa were brought to the passenger bay on the side of the ship, where a dozen or so seats were arranged in rows in front of a wide glass window. Squall and Rinoa sat down and buckled their seats. The soldiers exited the passenger bay, leaving the couple alone in the room.

(We always got to ride in the bridge before…)

(Oh well, it's not like it's our ship anyway.)

A few minutes later, the Ragnarok rumbled as whoever was piloting it reversed it out of the hole. The arms of the ship pushed against the Lunatic Pandora, the fingers clutching at the ground as the ship battled to free itself. With a metallic shriek, the Ragnarok finally broke out of the hole. The arms shoved off from the Pandora, pushing the ship out into the air.

With a roar, the thrusters engaged, sending the ship flying backwards, revealing the massive bulk of the Lunatic Pandora before them. More thrusters engaged, keeping the ship steady as it turned away from the Pandora and pointed towards Esthar. The pilot floored the accelerator, sending the ship rocketing forward, and slamming Rinoa and Squall hard into the backs of their chairs.

"Good thing we were sitting down," Rinoa said.

"Yeah," Squall said. When his body adjusted to the speed, he turned to face her. "Well, Piet's definitely given us a lot to think about. Like he said, his ideas are still theories, but they're good theories. I can't think of any reason why they'd be wrong."

"Yeah," Rinoa said.

Squall looked into her eyes.

"Was it worth the trip?" he asked.

Rinoa smiled. "Oh, definitely! I… feel like I understand the world better. The world, the sorceresses… myself. I'm really glad I came. Thanks. Thank you, Squall."

Squall waved off her thanks. "It was nothing. I was curious too. Anyway, it's probably time we headed back to Garden. It might be a while before Piet figures things out, and I don't think there's anything else we need to ask anybody. Agree?"

"Yeah, I think we should get back home," Rinoa said. She looked forward out of the windshield. On the horizon, the glittering city of Esthar was fast approaching.

Her thoughts returned to Timber, to Garden. With any luck, nothing had happened during their absence. Her worst fear was that something would go wrong when she was away, when she wasn't able to do anything about it.

(I shouldn't worry about that.)

She turned to Squall. "Hey, Squall. Remember the last time it was just you and me aboard the Ragnarok?"

Squall nodded. "Yeah. But it's not just you and me this time. There's a pilot on the bridge. And probably more soldiers around somewhere."

"But they're not _here_," Rinoa said, with a mischievous grin. "They won't say anything."

Rinoa unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped over to Squall, jumping into his lap and lacing her fingers around the back of his neck. She leaned her head down into his chest and squeezed with both arms. She breathed in, taking in the scent of his leather jacket, the feel of his tight muscles on her body.

"I think you really should go back to your seat," Squall said, "Our pilot's a bit reckless."

"We might not get another chance for a while," Rinoa said. "Just hold on to me, and we'll be fine."

Squall stared at her, the beginnings of a protest forming in his mind. Then he shrugged and smiled, the faintest curve on the edge of his lips. He put one hand on her waist and one on her shoulder and held her tightly.


	16. Chapter 16: Bang

_**Chapter 16**_

_**Bang**_

(Irvine)

Galbadia Garden eased to a stop and lowered to the ground. A thump echoed through the whole school, vibrating in Irvine's boots. He and Selphie stood—along with a handful of students and soldiers and Headmaster Martine—in the makeshift parking area where the Garden's front gate turnstiles used to be.

Irvine looked at Selphie, trying to gauge her mood. The previous night had been restless for him, following their argument. He couldn't help but constantly think about Selphie, about how to patch things up with her, how to make himself look like less of a callous bastard.

(But I still think I'm right. We can't save Seifer.)

(And we shouldn't even bother to try.)

He'd expected her to bring up the issue of Seifer again in the morning, but instead she had sleepily stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, shouted, "NO PEEKING!" at him, and then shut the door and proceeded to have a hot shower.

By the time she got out, the bathroom was so foggy even the floors were soaked. But Irvine was struck by her appearance when she reentered the room: enlivened, fresh, and energized. It was as if the shower had washed away more than just weeks of Trabian dirt, but also the troubles and concerns that weighed her down. She no longer wore her snug woolen cap, instead allowing her hair to flare up at the tips in her favored style, swaying and bouncing with her movements.

Irvine was entranced to the point of speechlessness. He took a shower immediately after her, hoping that he could impress her as much as she'd impressed him. He spent a half-hour in the cramped little shower stall, cleaning himself with almost obsessive attention to detail. When he finished, he spent another ten minutes grooming himself in the foggy mirror until he felt he was presentable.

But Selphie didn't seem very surprised by his transformation. She smiled at him, but Irvine couldn't tell if she liked what she saw or if she was just smiling to acknowledge him. He'd sighed, disappointed, and went about his business.

Now the two waited as the heavy metal door folded down, forming a ramp leading to the ground. Irvine stole more glances at Selphie, hoping to catch her secretly checking him out, but her eyes were focused ahead, observing the proceedings. They both clutched their weapons in hand, ready for anything that happened next.

(Might be she's still upset about last night.)

A Galbadian soldier climbed behind the wheel of one of the nearby military escort cars. Martine opened the passenger side door and put one foot inside. He stopped to look at Irvine and Selphie. He gestured for them to get into the back seat. Wordlessly, the two climbed into the vehicle. Martine sat in the passenger seat and closed the door, then nodded to the driver. The driver fired up the ignition and rolled the car down the ramp, turning the wheel towards Deling City.

Irvine settled in his seat. The inside of the car smelled of plastic, engine oil, and sweat. It made his nose wrinkle, but he didn't comment on the odor. Instead, he leaned forward and spoke.

"I didn't know you were plannin' on coming with us," Irvine said. "Thought you were gonna stay with the Garden."

"I actually have business to attend to in Deling City," Martine said, turning his head to look at Irvine.

(Now I'm curious.)

"What kind of business?" Irvine asked with a raised eyebrow.

Martine smiled, looking pleased with himself. "Well, since you asked. I intend to run for president."

Irvine and Selphie jerked in their chairs, as if their seats were electrified.

"What?!" Selphie said. "P-President? _You_?"

Martine looked at her, offended. "Is that so surprising? All sorts of people have been throwing their names into the running. Politicians, businessmen, dignitaries. I meant to enter the race sooner, but my obligations to G-Garden came first. I only hope that I've returned in time, before they stop accepting new entrants."

Irvine scrunched up his face in thought. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"… Deling City's having an election?" he asked, mostly to himself.

(That's weird…)

Martine laughed, one of the very, very few times Irvine had ever heard him do so. "You two truly were off the grid in Trabia weren't you? Oh my, the things you don't know…"

A short distance of grass and soil separated the vehicle from the main road into the city. The driver gripped the wheel tightly in both hands as the car jostled along the uneven ground. The tires squawked when they hit the asphalt, then the driver straightened the car out and accelerated, speeding towards Deling City.

Irvine could see the city lights approach in the evening sky, like a field of yellow stars before them. Deling City stretched across the horizon, close and growing closer as the car neared the city limits. The sun was setting in the west, sending a few sharp rays through the side windows of the car. Irvine angled the brim of his hat to keep the glare out of his eyes.

A few minutes later, they crossed through the perimeter wall of Deling City. The capital of Galbadia was not a tall, imposing city. Rather, it was sprawling, giving the appearance of being endless. The highest building in the city stood only a few stories high, but next to that building was another building, and then another and another, stretching on in sequence down immaculately paved roads. It was impossible to live in Deling City without either owning a car or making use of the city's extensive and complex bus routes.

The city, to Irvine, had always felt cold and unwelcoming. A distinct air of superiority was poured into every street and every building. Deling City's gaudy bright lights combined with its stately and expensive houses gave Irvine the feeling that he was unwanted, intruding in a land meant for other, nobler people.

(Or maybe I just think that 'cause of my foster parents.)

Irvine felt his skin crawl.

The driver took them through the complicated net of streets. Irvine found himself longing for the hard-packed ground underneath Trabia Garden's sound stage, the chill mountain air, the treeless fields. Trabia was a land that was cold and harsh, but at least the locals were friendly to visitors.

They passed extravagant water fountains, lit up by colored lights so that the water appeared to change from green to blue to red in the dying sunlight. Statues of long-forgotten war heroes and politicians stared down dismissively on the passing pedestrians. Bright banners decorated store fronts, trying to look pleasant, but appearing garish instead.

(I hate this place.)

The driver came to a stop at the end of the long sidewalk that led up to General Caraway's mansion. In the narrow street, there was no room to pull over to the curb, so the stopped car blocked an entire lane of traffic. Cars backed up behind them, honking their horns angrily. Martine ignored them and turned to his guests.

"Here is where we must part," Martine said. "I'm going on to the Government Building to officially announce my candidacy. General Caraway has been notified of your coming and is expecting you. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Irvine said. "How are we getting back to Trabia?"

A car horn behind them blared, uninterrupted, for a few seconds. Martine waited until it stopped, then continued.

"Caraway will arrange for a train to talk you to Dollet," Martine said. "From there, a boat will take you from Dollet to Trabia. Sound reasonable?"

Irvine shrugged. "Sure."

Martine nodded. "Good. I hope things go well between you and the General. I'd hate for my first act as president to be an act of war against Timber and SeeD."

Irvine smirked derisively.

(You ain't been elected yet.)

Irvine tipped his hat to the Headmaster. Selphie opened the door and hopped nimbly onto the sidewalk. Irvine slid across the seat and joined her, then slammed the door shut. The driver pulled away, finally releasing the row of cars behind him, silencing the symphony of their horns. Irvine and Selphie stood on the sidewalk, watching as the car sped out of sight. When it was gone, the two turned to the mansion and began walking.

General Caraway's mansion stood about a block or so off the street. Its long sidewalk was lined on both sides with a perfectly landscaped garden, growing local plants of almost every variety. At the end of the sidewalk stood the mansion itself, a stern-looking two-story building with white walls and red curtains in the windows. A series of spotlights around the perimeter of the building cast their light upon the façade, making the building glow like a billboard.

The two reached the front door and paused. Irvine rapped on the heavy wooden door with his gloved knuckles and waited. A few moments later, an elderly butler with sparse gray hair and a drooping face opened the door and sniffed at the two arrivals.

Irvine tipped his hat, "Howdy, uh, we're Irvine and Selphie. We're here—"

The butler bowed formally. "Yes, the General is expecting you. Come with me."

The butler stepped off to the side and gestured for the two to enter. When they crossed the threshold, the butler closed the door behind them and locked it.

They found themselves inside a massive foyer, with an elaborate marble staircase dominating the center of the room. The floor was black-and-white checkered marble, with exquisite red carpets placed in straight lines upon it, creating pathways between the rooms. The butler silently guided the two to the left, towards a side room which Irvine knew from past experience to be the General's drawing room.

The drawing room had not changed since Irvine and Selphie had last been inside. A handful of soft leather couches and a coffee table sat in the middle. At the far end of the room, an imposing wooden desk watched over rest of the furniture. There were fine art paintings on the walls, a cabinet of crystal glassware, a statue of a robed woman tucked in a stone recess, and several windows overlooking the city. The butler directed them into the room, then stood off to the side.

"Do you care for refreshments?" the butler asked.

"Naw," Irvine said.

"You got any Mega Fizz?" Selphie asked. Irvine rolled his eyes and smiled. Mega Fizz tasted like cherry syrup and cough medicine, and made his hands shake with the intense sugar rush it caused. Just the thought of it almost made him gag, but Selphie could pound the stuff by the case like it was no more than water.

"Sorry, but I am afraid not," the butler said. His tone indicated that he wasn't sorry in the slightest.

"Aw… okay. Nevermind then," Selphie said. She plopped down on one of the couches and stretched out, propping her boots up on the armrest. She tossed her nunchaku on the coffee table. They clattered hard on the varnished surface. The butler bit his lip, fighting for composure, but he was too well-trained to comment on her rudeness. He nodded to the two.

"The General will be with you shortly," he said, exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

With a start, Selphie sat up, looking at Irvine with nervous eyes. "You don't think he's gonna lock us in here, do you?" she asked.

Irvine grinned confidently. "If he does, you know how to escape, right?"

He hadn't been with the others when they had their adventures underground, but Selphie had relayed the story to him a couple times, emphasizing the horrible stench of the city sewers and the weird monsters that looked like human shadows with long fingers.

Selphie stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Ugh… I don't wanna have to go through the sewers again," she said. She flopped back down on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"Well, neither do I," Irvine said. "I'm just sayin' that we won't be trapped if he tries that trick again."

Selphie continued to gaze at nothing, gnawing on her tongue. "What kinda nutcase puts a secret door to the sewers in his house anyway?"

(Good question.)

Irvine didn't answer. Instead, moved over to the intimidating desk and rested his shotgun across it. He stepped around and slid into the comfortable leather chair behind it, rubbing his hands up and down the soft armrests. He kicked up his feet and tipped his hat down, resting his eyes. Last time they had paid a visit to the General, he'd taken quite a while to actually arrive, and he expected no different this time.

After a few minutes, Irvine could hear Selphie roll over on the couch.

"Maybe we should leave?" Selphie said.

"Why's that?" Irvine asked, not looking up.

"If Rinoa needs our help in Timber," Selphie said. "Then we should be in Timber, right? Not here."

"We're tryin' to talk Caraway out of a war," Irvine said, still keeping his eyes shut. "Not help Rinoa start one."

(If that's actually what she's doing.)

Irvine was beginning to have his doubts. Some things about Martine's story didn't quite make sense to him.

"I guess. Didn't think of it like that…" Selphie said.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds were the steady ticking of a wall clock, mixed with Selphie's restless movements. She changed position on the couch several times. Finally she stood up and paced the room for a bit. He could hear her messing around with the glassware, adjusting some of the paintings, and fidgeting with the throw pillows.

(Imagine how hyper she'd be if they actually had some Mega Fizz here.)

Irvine smiled to himself. At least she was acting like herself again and not talking about Seifer.

Finally, they heard footsteps approaching from outside. They both perked up at the sound. Irvine lifted the brim of his hat as General Caraway, dressed in his military uniform, entered the room. He nodded at the pair and shut the door behind him.

"Ah… now I remember you two," Caraway said. He pointed at Irvine. "You were our sharpshooter."

Irvine made a gun shape with his thumb and forefinger. "That's me."

Caraway looked to Selphie. "And you were on the Gateway Team."

Selphie wasted no time with introductions or courtesies. She marched up to Caraway and said, "Is Rinoa okay? You haven't hurt her, have you?"

Caraway looked confused. "I'm sorry. I don't understand. You mean my daughter?"

"Yes! Who else?" Selphie said, just shy of yelling. "I can't believe a father would go to war with his own daughter! You are the craziest family ever!"

Caraway was now quite confused. He shook his head. "I… I am afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. You will have to explain to me."

Suspecting what the problem was, Irvine decided to butt in. He hopped out of the chair and took a couple steps towards the General. His lingering distrust of all Galbadians made him stay within arm's reach of his shotgun, just in case.

"Martine told us that Rinoa was leading a rebellion in Timber," Irvine said. "That's how he got us to come here."

Understanding washed over Caraway's face. Understanding, then frustration.

"Martine…" he muttered. He shook his head.

(Damn… I shoulda known better.)

Irvine sighed and closed his eyes. "I take it we've been had?"

Caraway looked at Irvine. "Indeed. To the best of my knowledge, Rinoa has nothing to do with the Timber rebellion. It's another sorceress entirely, one named 'Ciel,' who is the root of the problem. Not my daughter."

Selphie pointed an accusatory finger at Caraway. "You LIED!"

"Martine lied," Caraway said. "I only asked him to bring you here. I assumed he would do so without deception, but… I was mistaken."

Without missing a beat, Selphie turned her accusatory finger at Irvine. "YOU lied!" she said. "You said Martine always told the truth!"

(Yeah, I thought so too.)

Irvine shrugged. "… He's never lied to me before. I figured this was too big for him to lie about."

Caraway nodded, agreeing with Irvine's statement. "Ordinarily, he's a very honest man. But he is prone to taking dishonest measures to ensure that things go his way. I assure you, on my honor as General of the Galbadian military, that I will not lie to you. There is too much at stake here for such childish nonsense."

"Yeah, sure," Selphie mumbled. She flopped down in a chair and didn't look at anyone.

There was an awkward pause. Irvine looked to the General. "So what's really happening? What's the truth?"

The General quickly summarized the events of the past few days. He started with Ciel's takeover of the TV station and her declaration of Timber's independence. He went on to give a very brief summary of his debates with Commander Quistis.

"Whoa whoa, wait," Irvine said. He held up both hands. "Slow down. _Commander_ Quistis? You didn't talk to Squall?"

Caraway shrugged. "I expected to speak with the Headmaster. But apparently she is the ranking official at Garden right now. If you want any further details about that, you'll have to ask SeeD. I don't know any more than you do."

Irvine rubbed his chin, thinking.

(If Quistis is Commander… then where's Squall?)

"Is Squall okay?" Selphie asked.

"Again, I wouldn't know," Caraway said. "It seems there's some disorder in SeeD right now, but that's only the impression I got. Anyway, their initial attack on Timber has been repelled. They must have underestimated the size of our presence in the city. Garden withdrew its troops and has been in a holding pattern in the ocean ever since. I assume that they are planning another attack, but I intend to preempt them and seize the TV station before Garden can interfere again."

"So… when are you gonna attack?" Selphie asked.

Irvine didn't think the General would answer that question, since it revealed details of Galbadia's military strategy, but Caraway responded quickly.

"I would have attacked earlier today, if Martine hadn't told me you two were coming," Caraway said. "You see, the problem is we have no idea how to truly neutralize a sorceress. Were it just a cluster of average citizens holed up in the TV Station, we would have attacked long ago, at the onset of this debacle. But our ignorance of the sorceress has forced us to be guarded. Our mutual experience with the Sorceress Edea has taught me to err on the side of caution. I am hoping that you two will be able to help me resolve this issue as swiftly and peacefully as possible, by providing any information you have on sorceresses."

Caraway moved across the room and gazed out the window. Irvine could see the transparent reflection of his face in the glass. His expression was stern, emotionless. His white-gloved hands were clasped behind his back.

"There is something I must ask you," Caraway said. "I've already deduced the answer, but I want one of you to tell me plainly, so as to leave no trace of doubt in my mind." He turned his head and looked at Irvine. "Is my daughter a sorceress?"

Irvine was struck by the question. In the interest of protecting Rinoa, his first instinct was to lie. It would be stupid for him to reveal such a dangerous secret about one of his closest friends to the General of the Galbadian military, even if he was her father. Furthermore, the fact that Martine had lied to bring them to Deling City in the first place still grated on Irvine's nerves.

(Why should we tell the truth to a bunch a liars?)

But Irvine looked at the General, at the steely eyes of Galbadia's highest-ranking soldier. Caraway was many things, but he was and always would be Rinoa's father, even if their relationship was strained to the point of being broken. While Irvine didn't trust Caraway the Galbadian, he did trust Caraway the father.

(And maybe he'll be kinder if he knows the truth.)

"Yeah," Irvine said. "Rinoa's a sorceress…"

Caraway nodded, and then turned his gaze back out to the city. On the couch, Selphie slapped a pillow and glared at Irvine, shooting bullets through her eyes.

"You weren't s'posed to tell!" Selphie said. She spun around and faced the General. "Er. I mean… He's lying! Rinoa's not a sorceress! What are you talkin' about?"

Caraway ignored her, as did Irvine.

"You said you already figured it out," Irvine said. "How?"

"I knew for sure when you told me that you expected Rinoa to be leading the resistance," Caraway said. "Even if you had lied just now and told me she wasn't a sorceress, your previous actions betrayed your true thoughts. You knew that a sorceress was leading the Timber rebellion, and you assumed it was Rinoa. That was your error."

(Damn it, we've gotta be more careful…)

"But, honestly, I suspected that she was a sorceress even before that," Caraway said. He turned around and faced the pair. "I know much more about the world than you think I do. Would you care to know how much I know?"

(Yeah, definitely.)

Irvine waved his hand. "Go ahead."

"Good," Caraway said, nodding. "You see, I think we're beyond the point where lies can do any service to either side. We are on the verge of yet another war between Galbadia and a sorceress. Like these things always do, it will come down to power versus power. Whoever has the most power will be victorious. Lies are mere words, and serve us no purpose now. Only strength matters."

(So you say…)

Caraway stepped forward, gripping the backrest of a nearby chair with his gloved fingers. Despite Caraway's reassurances, Irvine was still on edge, listening to the general and combing his words for falsehoods and contradictions.

"After Sorceress Edea took control of Galbadia," Caraway said, "She ordered G-Garden to pursue and destroy Balamb Garden. I haven't the slightest idea why she did this, but I do know all the details surrounding that incident. During the battle, you two, along with my daughter, were seen storming G-Garden. An unseen conflict happened somewhere in the school and afterwards, one of G-Garden's students saw five of you leave, carrying my daughter, unconscious, with the Sorceress Edea walking beside you, seemingly of her own free will."

Selphie gasped. Even Irvine was taken aback.

(If he knows about that… then…)

Caraway held up a hand for silence. "Before you explain, let me continue. G-Garden and Balamb Garden separated after that, the battle decided in favor of SeeD. From here, SeeD and Garden fall out of my knowledge, so I hope you can tell me what happened during this time. G-Garden eventually tracked SeeD to Fisherman's Horizon, hoping to spy on the Sorceress Edea and learn her fate. They did not find the sorceress, but they did find Martine. After a long period of inactivity from Balamb Garden, Martine convinced his students it was safe to come out of hiding. His belief was that the Sorceress Edea had been defeated somehow, or was currently a prisoner of SeeD."  
(At least Martine was telling the truth about that.)

(Well… some of the truth.)

"Martine then gave his report directly to me," Caraway said. "And I… At first I assumed that my daughter had been killed in battle. She and I have had our differences but… she is still my daughter."

A twinge of real emotion flickered in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, breathed in and out, then continued. "Martine and I set about trying to learn as much as possible about what had happened during that battle, as well as the current status of the Sorceress Edea and my daughter. It was then that the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"A sorceress with blue skin and strange clothes suddenly appeared in Galbadia Garden," Caraway said. "She passed on her powers to another girl, a student, and then vanished. The girl who received the powers had now somehow become a sorceress."

Irvine felt himself go a little faint.

(So much has happened…)

Caraway shook his head sadly. "Martine… overreacted. He killed the girl. Or, rather, he tried to. But even after death, even after sustaining wounds that were impossible to survive, the girl continued to live. Martine quarantined her in the detention center of G-Garden, keeping her away from all the other girls in the school, and asked for my advice. I, frankly, was stumped. Until I remembered that the Sorceress Edea had left G-Garden with you."

(Seifer…)

(He was telling the truth about that girl in the detention center.)

Irvine's mind was already reeling with all this new information, but Caraway did not slow down to let him process it all.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong," Caraway said. "But the Sorceress Edea passed on her powers to my daughter, didn't she?"

(He's got this all figured out.)

(I don't think I could lie to him, even if I wanted to.)

Irvine nodded. "… Yeah."

"And is my daughter dead?" he asked. He asked the question calmly, revealing no emotion.

"No," Irvine said. "She was just unconscious."

Caraway's face twitched a little, visibly relieved. "That is good to hear. Despite what you may think, I don't wish for my daughter to come to harm."

"You're still her dad," Selphie said.

"Exactly," Caraway said. "While I am glad that my daughter is alive, you do realize that we are now in a situation where we have two sorceresses aligned against Galbadia? One in Timber and one in Garden, with a potential third locked away inside G-Garden? This is unprecedented. I have tried everything to keep SeeD out of the fight, to keep the two sorceresses from uniting, but my efforts have failed. Against the combined power of two sorceresses…" He trailed off.

(Sounds like your problem, not ours.)

"That does seem pretty bad for Galbadia, yeah," Irvine said.

"It's bad for everyone," Caraway said. He stepped over to the cabinet in the wall and pulled one of the expensive glasses from the shelf. He popped open a bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass. He took a small sip and continued.

"The sorceress is power," he said. "It is a power not held by a government or an army or a committee. It is absolute power, held by one person without any oversight by others. No one stands above a sorceress, keeping her in check. What's worse, it's a power that we do not fully understand. And powers that are not understood are feared. I would say that there is nothing in the world so frightening to people as a sorceress. And now we have at least two running around. Maybe more that we are unaware of."

Caraway took another sip from his glass, allowing his words to settle over his audience. Irvine and Selphie didn't respond. Irvine was curious to see where the General was going with this. How he was going to try to get the two on his side, when Irvine still sympathized with Rinoa and—to an extent—the sorceress in Timber. Irvine didn't know this other sorceress, but he agreed on principle with the rebellion in Timber.

"You say that the combined powers of the sorceresses are bad for Galbadia," Caraway said. "This is true. But it's short-sighted to only consider Galbadia's perspective. Let me bring you up to date on current events. Right now, in Galbadia—even in Deling City, just outside my door—people are beginning to panic. They hear stories about the sorceress in Timber. And in time, those stories get bigger, more convoluted. Some are saying that the sorceress is immortal. Some say that a girl can become a sorceress by completing a dark ritual. There are stories of women supposedly sacrificing an infant to the moon to become a sorceress. People say that they eat men alive, growing stronger by drinking their blood. All sorts of crazy tales are spreading on the streets and on cable."

Caraway chuckled mirthlessly into his glass and took another sip. "It's all nonsense, of course. Folk legends that should have died off generations ago. But the point is, people are afraid. And they are afraid, not just in Galbadia, but in Timber as well. In Balamb. In Dollet. In the entire civilized world, people are watching this drama unfold and wondering how many of those rumors are true. What you two fail to understand is that a victory by the sorceress in this war will not bring peace, but utter chaos.

"If Galbadia falls to the sorceress, all this pent up fear among the people will have nothing to hold it back. The people, panicked, will splinter apart. Already the holes are beginning to form. People are leaving the cities, moving away from major population centers. Charlatans in the streets are selling charms and trinkets to defend the people against sorceresses. Arms dealers are selling weapons and munitions to civilians. Every day we break up more and more of these illegal transactions. Yesterday, a girl on the north side of town was shot. Accused of being a sorceress by an angry mob. Events like this will only grow worse if the sorceress is not stopped. Irvine. Selphie. I am not asking you to help me save the nation of Galbadia. I am asking you to help me stop global anarchy."

Caraway paused and took a long, meaningful sip from his wineglass, letting the accumulating silence add weight to his words. But it would take far more than a dire speech and Caraway's air of authority to convince Irvine to do anything that might harm SeeD or Rinoa in any way.

(Global anarchy be damned. I ain't fighting against my friends.)

"Well, I ain't buying into your doom-and-gloom just yet," Irvine said. He smirked and shrugged. "No offense, but it seems to me like you're just spitting out a whole bunch of hypotheticals at us and hoping we'll fall in line. But we've faced off with sorceresses before, and the world didn't go nuts. I think we can safely say the same will be true this time too."

Caraway emptied the last of his wine glass in one quick swallow. "What you are saying is true. There have been sorceresses in the past, and they all have been defeated. Some more easily than others. But that is because there has always been a power greater than the sorceress to keep her in check. If Galbadia is defeated by the sorceress, there will be nothing standing between her and the rest of the world. Nothing, except maybe Esthar. But we know nothing of the silent country or of their current condition. Many in the world believe that the Sorceress Adel still rules in Esthar, waiting for the opportunity to wage war again. If she does, then—"

"She won't," Selphie said. "We whooped her butt."

Irvine scratched the back of his neck, wondering who really deserved credit for removing Adel from the world's stage: Laguna and the rebels, who sealed Adel in space or Irvine and the others, who finally defeated her after she was freed? He didn't know, and decided not to argue with Selphie's point.

Caraway raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "I see. But whether or not that's true, you'll find it hard to convince people that a handful of teenagers toppled the most powerful sorceress in living memory without any news of the event reaching Galbadia." He paused and refilled his glass. "No offense," he said to Irvine.

Irvine sniffed, both amused and perturbed to have his own little dig thrown back at him.

Caraway continued. "You're both missing the point. As far as the sorceress is concerned, it doesn't matter what is or is not true. What matters is what the people _believe_ to be true. And right now, the people believe that if this Sorceress Ciel defeats Galbadia, then there will be nothing and no one to stop her from sneaking into their houses in the night, stealing their babies, and eating their husbands. I wish I was joking about that."

He took the time to pour himself another glass of wine, but did not drink. Instead he stared pensively at the red liquid in the bowl.

"But… we can tell them the truth," Irvine said. "Public Service Announcements or whatever. Tell the people the facts about the sorceress. Let me tell you, the sorceress is a lot less scary when you understand her and what she can and can't do."

"And what facts do you have?" Caraway said. He lowered his glass, the wine swirling in the glass. "What do you know about the sorceress that can compete with the mountains of misinformation we are dealing with? Is there some spell that can nullify her power? A ward to keep the people safe? Perhaps a magic bullet that can kill her in one shot? Tell me, Irvine, is there any easy solution for defeating a sorceress?"

Irvine looked to Selphie, then back to Caraway. He slumped his shoulders a little, sighed, and raised his hands in defeat.

"No. There's no easy solution," Irvine said.

"Then what you're suggesting will take time. And evidence," Caraway said. "Neither of which we have. You can't battle hearsay with hearsay. And although I personally believe you two are telling the truth, no one else is likely to agree."

Irvine puffed out his cheeks, exasperated. "So then what'll you have us do about it? Why'd you even bother bringing us here?"

"Several reasons," Caraway said. "For one, I was holding on to the dim hope that you had an answer for me. A quick way to kill or neutralize a sorceress. Seeing as you do not, I have to move on to my next plan. The first step to defusing this situation is to remove Garden from the equation."

"Whaddya mean?" Selphie said.

"I can get you two in contact with Commander Quistis," Caraway said. "You must convince her and my daughter to stand down, withdraw from Timber, and return to Balamb peacefully. Right now, very few people outside this room are aware that there is a second sorceress involved in this situation. If we can keep it that way, we can help stop the spread of panic."

"What happens after that?" Irvine asked.

"When SeeD withdraws, we must then eliminate the sorceress," Caraway said. "Without SeeD's interference, it should be relatively simple. And then… that's it. With both sorceresses out of the way, life can return to normal. The fear will subside, and the threat of war and anarchy will pass. At least for now. Until the next sorceress."

Irvine had to admit, it was hard to argue with a relatively peaceful solution. Granted, it wasn't entirely bloodless, as the second half of the plan hinged on attacking and probably killing the Timber sorceress, but overall it still seemed better than open war with Galbadia, SeeD, and Timber.

But also, he knew that Quistis and the others wouldn't have gotten involved in the first place if they didn't have good reasons for it. Irvine himself didn't know the Sorceress Ciel, but if Quistis trusted her enough to go to war on her behalf, then it would be stupid of Irvine to try to break up their alliance.

(I should probably use this chance to learn Caraway's plans.)

"What're you gonna do with Timber?" Irvine asked. "When all this is said and done?"

"That's up to the next president to decide," Caraway said. He took a sup from his glass. "My only goal is to restore peace and finish this election. I'm not interested in deciding Galbadia's long-term policies."

Before Irvine could ask another question, Selphie spoke up.

"What about the sorceress?" she asked.

"What about her?" Caraway asked, sipping wine.

"She can't die until she passes on her powers, you know," Selphie said. "So who's gonna take her powers if you kill her?"

Caraway hesitated, his wineglass hovering just outside his mouth. The blank stare in his eyes indicated that he was unsure of what to say to the pair for the first time since he'd walked in the room. In that moment of Caraway's indecision, Irvine went from being slightly sympathetic to Caraway's ideas, to being totally against him and the rest of the Galbadians.

(What _would_ he do, if he killed the sorceress?)

Caraway certainly wouldn't allow her to pass on her powers to another girl. The way Caraway spoke of the sorceress, the way he'd built her up to be a global threat to world peace, he would never be able to accept that as a solution. Most likely he would lock her up, far away from any other women, and leave her in a half-dead stasis until he found a better answer. Irvine didn't know the sorceress Ciel, but he believed that no one in the world deserved such a horrible fate.

(It's no different from what Martine is doing with that girl in the detention center.)

Irvine sneered and rested his hand on the desk. His anger and derision towards the General were masked behind an air of flippant nonchalance. Grinning, he looked at Selphie.

"So whaddya think, Selphie?" Irvine said, grabbing the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger. "Should we sign up with the Galbadians?"

Selphie snorted. "Psh. No."

(Glad to see we're on the same page this time.)

Caraway sighed. "Unfortunate. But I am a man of my word, even if my subordinates sometimes are not. If you're concerned that I'm going to retaliate or imprison you for not helping me, you can set aside those fears now. I honestly wasn't expecting much help from either of you, and my plans will not be changed because of your refusal to take part in them. But there is one thing I would like you to do for me before we part."

"We ain't gonna help you," Irvine said. He crossed his arms, closing the debate. "We've made up our minds."

"No, I believe this will serve your purposes as much as mine," Caraway said. "You see, I would like for you to get in touch with your Commander. Seeing as how you two have been deprived of contact with the outside world, I imagine you would appreciate the opportunity to speak directly to her. Am I correct?"

Warily, Irvine said, "You can do that?"

"Not right away, no," Caraway said. "Like I said, Garden is in a holding pattern in the ocean, and they are not responding to any radio signals. If they're even in range to receive them right now. I will have to send an envoy to the ocean to find them and make contact directly. Then I can get you in touch with the Commander of SeeD."

(Why do this? What's he after?)

"And I guess you want us to tell her to back down?" Irvine asked.

"You can tell her whatever you want," Caraway said. "I only want for you to speak with her."

"Why?" Irvine asked. "What's in it for you?"

"I still believe that you two will come to see reason in the end," Caraway said. "And, through your intervention, maybe she will come to see reason as well. You can tell her as much or as little as you like, and discuss whatever topics suit you. I only ask that you make the connection."

(Hard to argue with such a simple request.)

"Sounds easy enough…" Irvine said.

"Then there should be no reason for you to refuse," Caraway said, confidently sipping from his glass.

(This has gotta be some kind of trap.)

Irvine put up his defenses again, and tried to think how Caraway would use this to his advantage. Obviously, Caraway wouldn't make the offer if he didn't gain something from it, but it all seemed so harmless that Irvine couldn't think of any way that Caraway would profit. Was there a hidden snare that Irvine wasn't seeing? If so, then what was it?

"You don't have to consent right away," Caraway said. "I'll ask you again in the morning. In the meantime, you are free to make use of my mansion. My office upstairs has a connection to HD cables. You are welcome to fact-check all of my statements online, and better acquaint yourself with what's going on in the world. If you would like, my butler can show you to my guest bedrooms, where you may rest for the night. If there's anything you need, you are welcome to ask. Any questions?"

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Irvine said. "Here you are, talkin' about world wars and global anarchy and chaos, all while sipping wine in your drawing room like you're talking about stock options."

"What would be gained if I abandoned my senses and gave in to fear?" Caraway asked. He looked at Irvine and Selphie, waiting for one of them to ask another question. After a pause, he stepped forward, topped off his wine glass, and spoke. "If there is nothing else, I will wish you all a good night, and excuse myself for the evening."

Caraway nodded to the pair, taking his glass with him as he left the room. He shut the door behind him.

Irvine looked to Selphie. For the first time all day, he was able to clearly read her emotions. Her brow was furrowed, and her nose was twitching back and forth like a rabbit's. Clearly she was thinking everything over, trying to figure out their next move and where Caraway's trap was—or if he'd even set a trap at all.

"Whatcha thinking?" Irvine asked, though he already had an idea.

Selphie sighed. "… Really wish they had some Mega Fizz."

Irvine closed his eyes slowly, a smile creeping across his face. Laughing in short breaths through his nose, he rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

"Selphie," he said, "You're… you're something else, you know?"

She ignored the comment. "So d'ya wanna check out the cable?" she asked. "I'd reeeally like to know what's going on around here."

"Yeah, me too," Irvine said. "Let's mosey."

Selphie nimbly hopped out of her chair and picked up her nunchaku from the coffee table. Irvine grabbed his shotgun with one hand and rested the barrel on his shoulder. He led the way to the door and settled his fingers on the knob. For one uneasy moment, he wondered if Caraway had sealed them inside. He twisted the knob. It turned easily, and the door slid open.

(Whew.)

"C'mon," Irvine said.

They stepped back out into the foyer. As the two exited the drawing room, Irvine was struck with the realization that Caraway had neglected to mention where his office was located. More than a half dozen doors were visible on both levels of the mansion, with more doorways down the hallways, out of Irvine's sight. All the doors in the mansion were closed, giving no indication of where they led.

"Uh… Should we ask the butler where the office is?" Irvine asked.

"He said it was upstairs, right?" Selphie asked. Not waiting for his response, she ran past him, and headed up the stairs. Irvine jogged to keep up with her, taking the steps two at a time. She reached the top and ran to the nearest closed door, twisting the knob.

"Locked," she said. As she moved to the next door, Irvine looked around the second floor. The hallway ran left and right, perpendicular to the stairs. The soft red carpeting muffled the sounds of Selphie's boots as she stomped along. Fancy table stands held elaborate flowered vases. More expensive art hung up on the walls. The hall was lit by a row of yellow electric lights shaped like candles.

Instead of following Selphie as she checked every door one by one, Irvine gathered in the details of his surroundings, memorizing them. The door nearest him, as well as many other doors, had keypads next to the doorknobs. Irvine looked beyond her, down to the far end of the hall. Among the many closed doors, one stood slightly ajar.

"Hey, Selphie," he called. She paused and turned to him.

"What?" she asked.

"What about that door?" he said, pointing. "The only one that's open."

She spun around and looked.

"OOOOHHHHHhhhhhh," she said. "Yeah, let's try that."

She hurriedly jogged to the open door, as if it was set on a timer and could close by itself at any minute. Irvine took his time following her, absorbing the details of the mansion as he walked. Time and familiarity were beginning to dull his initial mistrust of the General, but he still didn't want to be caught off guard later, should something go wrong.

"You're right!" Selphie yelled to Irvine, before disappearing into the open doorway. She said something else, but her voice was caught in the room and didn't carry out into the hall. Irvine followed after her.

The door opened up into a sort of library. Tall bookcases lined all four walls, every space filled with textbooks and literature from around the world. A globe was placed prominently in one corner, next to a cozy reading chair and a lamp. At the far end of the room, tucked into a small recess, was a computer terminal atop a polished wooden desk.

"Bingo!" Selphie said. She flopped into the wooden chair in front of the desk—the chair groaning under the impact of her body—and fired up the monitor with a few keystrokes. Irvine closed the door, then stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder to get a better view of the monitor, and a better view of Selphie herself.

He was aware of her closeness, of the sound of her breathing, and her bare shoulders mere inches from his face. He leaned forward even further, resting his free hand on the desk and towering protectively over her. He could smell the scent of the Galbadian shampoo from her morning shower. Although it was the same bland scent he'd washed his own hair with for many years back when he was a student at G-Garden, he found himself appreciating it more, now that it was attached to Selphie.

He wanted to touch her, just reach out a hand and place it on the pale, smooth skin of her shoulder, but he didn't think it was the right time. Things had normalized between them, it seemed, ever since their argument the previous night, and he didn't want to undo his forward progress with hasty, unplanned movements.

(Patience. Patience is key.)

Maybe he couldn't touch her just yet, but with her eyes fixed to the screen, Irvine could steal as many sideways glances as he wanted without her knowing. Of course, he took full advantage of the situation.

Smiling to himself, he realized that once again he'd be bunking with Selphie in one of Caraway's guest rooms. Without Seifer around to ruin everything this time, and with the romantic air of the stately mansion providing the ambiance, Irvine felt his chances with Selphie were pretty good.

(Maybe this night will be better…)

In the next few hours, the two got caught up on global events, scanning through the archives of various independent news aggregators, double-checking facts to make sure that they were hearing the truth from as many sources as possible.

From what they could see, Caraway hadn't been lying about anything he'd told them. There indeed was an uprising in Timber, led by a Sorceress named Ciel. The two watched her video, in which she declared Timber's independence. Irvine thought she was cute, and commented on her appearance, which earned him a swift elbow in the stomach.

But Selphie didn't seem _too_ upset, which Irvine took as a good sign.

SeeD had joined into the battle only yesterday, launching an attack on Timber that proved to be unsuccessful. Both of them were especially curious to find details about the mission, but even the best news sources only posted vague answers.

(I wonder what went wrong…)

And true to Caraway's word, people were posting bizarre and panicked stories about how to defend against sorceresses. Some were organizing people into mass exoduses to the mountains, or to the distant valleys of the countryside. Anywhere a sorceress was unlikely to go.

Caraway had neglected to mention that he'd sent a large force into Balamb to search for sorceresses, but Irvine was more disappointed to learn this than angry. Irvine expected at least some lies and omissions. He had to be content that at least Caraway had been mostly truthful about the things that mattered.

Still, even with all the evidence online, it was hard for Irvine to buy into Caraway's fears about the future of the world, should the sorceress prevail over Galbadia. To Irvine, the General's vision of a world thrown into anarchy by the threat of an unchecked sorceress seemed to be just the paranoid ranting of a frightened old man who locked every door in his mansion and had secret passages leading into the sewers.

As they searched, Irvine examined and reexamined Caraway's offer from every possible angle. No matter how he tried, he couldn't find any possible way that Caraway would profit from connecting Irvine and Selphie with Quistis and Garden.

(Unless we try to convince her to back down, which I'm not gonna do.)

Maybe Caraway thought that having some time to think about the situation and peruse the cable news would change their mind? Irvine didn't know. Not knowing made Irvine even more suspicious of the General's motives.

He glanced back at the screen to discover that Selphie had gotten bored and distracted and had clicked on a video of cats.

"Selphie!" he said, in a playfully admonishing tone.

"Irvine!" Selphie replied, echoing his tone of voice. "This. Cat. Is. A. Butler. It is a Butler Cat, Irvine. Can you even imagine what you can do with a Butler Cat?"

Irvine grinned.

"Probably the same things you can do with a regular cat," he said.

"But as a butler!" Selphie argued.

(Gotta admit though, that cat is pretty awesome.)

"Okay, fine," Irvine said. "One cat video."

"WOO HOO!" Selphie said, letting the video play out.

Honestly, this worked out in Irvine's favor, playing perfectly into the script he had for the evening. Now that Selphie had gotten her fill of depressing news and stories of death and war, they could transition to brighter subjects. A few silly cat videos, then some other adorable videos that Irvine knew could melt a girl's heart like ice in the desert. A slightly sexy video, paired with a well-timed joke or comment. A brush of physical contact, his fingers "accidentally" touching her shoulder, her neck, or her arms. Maybe all of the above. A longing, meaningful gaze in the low lights of the library, with no witnesses around except for the rows and rows of silent books around them. The door shut firmly, so there would be no interruptions.

(And then…)

And then, there was an explosion from the foyer, loud enough to rattle the computer monitor and shake the floor. Instinctively, Irvine grabbed his shotgun in both hands and ran out of the room, throwing open the door and sprinting into the hall. Selphie spun in her chair, snatching up her nunchaku and chasing after him.

He ran down the empty hall and reached to the top of the steps. He looked below into the foyer. The remnants of the front door lay in charred pieces on the ground. Scorch marks blackened the doorway and the floor, and bits of the carpet were smoldering. Irvine glanced around, his gun tucked tightly against his shoulder, ready to fire, but he didn't see anything or anyone. Selphie charged past him, flying down the steps. He sighted down the barrel of the gun and ran down after her, leaning over the railing and looking to the first floor, to make sure the way ahead was clear.

There was another explosion and a pair of agonized screams. The screams were abruptly silenced, replaced by gunfire. Selphie hit the marble floor running and chased after the sounds of fighting, with Irvine only steps behind her.

(The hell's going on!?)

Underneath the stairs was another hallway, with more scorch marks along the walls. The lights, damaged in the attack, were flickering wildly. Selphie slowed down to a fast walk, cautiously moving forward to avoid being caught in the crossfire she couldn't yet see.

Irvine got in front of her, trying to shield her body with his. He had his shotgun to his shoulder and his finger on the trigger. They passed the body of the butler, limp and sprawled on the floor, his clothing singed and smoking.

At the end of the hall, a doorway had been blasted open with fire. Beyond, there was the sound of magic spells being cast, more screams, and a small-caliber weapon firing again and again. Once they were sure that magic was being used, they both brought up pinkish defensive shields, which would dampen the worst effects of any spells hurled in their direction.

Working as a pair, Selphie and Irvine turned the corner and looked into the room. They only had a moment—just a brief glimpse of the scene. Bodies of Caraway's servants were tossed around the room, slumped over furniture, bleeding onto the carpet and staining it a deeper shade of red. Caraway himself was slouched over a desk, a handgun held in his limp fingers. Blood dripped from his body and over the edge of the desk.

In the middle of the room was a young woman, short, with blonde hair and a red bandanna. She stood defiantly amidst the carnage, holding her head high and proudly. Irvine recognized her from the video he'd watched earlier.

(It's the sorceress!)

He brought his gun to his shoulder, but was too slow. The sorceress noticed them and instantly shot out an inferno, as if her arm was a flamethrower. Irvine and Selphie's magic shields absorbed the heat of the flame, but still the spell's impact hurled the two violently backwards. Irvine flew through the air, weightless, until his body slammed into the far wall of the room, his head snapping against a painting and knocking it down as he collapsed to the ground. He and Selphie hit the floor in a heap, dazed, but alive.

"FOREST WOLF!" the sorceress yelled triumphantly. Irvine, stunned, couldn't lift his head to look, but he could hear another discharge of magic followed by the sound of shattering glass. He managed to open his eyes and with blurry, double-vision, he saw a smoking hole where the window used to be. Aside from the corpses and Irvine and Selphie, the room was empty.

The sorceress was gone.

Irvine went limp and closed his eyes, unconsciousness threatening to drag his thoughts into darkness. Despite the screaming pain in his head, his mind turned to Selphie. He fought to stay awake, if only to make sure she was okay. He forced his eyes open and looked at her. She was breathing alright, but not moving.

Footsteps marched past the two fallen students and into the room. Irvine didn't know who they belonged to, but he knew there were several pairs.

"General Caraway!" someone shouted.

Irvine, aching everywhere and his head spinning, began to lose the battle against his injuries. Darkness covered his vision, and his eyes closed of their own accord. His head rested on the hard, cold marble floor.

"He's dead," a voice said. "General Caraway is dead."

The voice sounded like it was echoing from down a long, long tunnel.

And then Irvine faded into oblivion.

_End of Disc 1_

_Please insert Disc 2_


	17. Chapter 17: Trouble

"_Violence only leads to more violence."_

_**Chapter 17**_

_**Trouble**_

(Squall)

In the middle of the empty blue sea, a hazy smear of green emerged on the horizon, growing larger by the moment. Squall stood on the deck of the Esthar transport ship, holding the railings on the prow, smelling the warm salt air, a fine mist gently spraying his face. Rinoa stood beside him, clutching his arm. Both of them intently gazed as the island nation of Balamb approached, as if by a strong enough effort of will they could make the boat move faster towards its destination.

(It's only been three days since we left.)

(What could have happened in such a short time?)

Squall kept repeating this to himself, but the feeling of dread in his stomach only tightened its grip on him. He sensed anxiety radiating from Rinoa as well. He felt it in the nervous way she held his arm, practically wringing it between her fingers. The way she was trembling as if she was cold, despite the humid breeze.

They were being irrational, Squall told himself. No one—not even a sorceress—could see the future. This sensation of grim premonition was just the result of their tense nerves, built up over the course of several days spent away from home in a foreign land.

Squall told himself this, but didn't wholly believe it.

(There's a lot in the world I don't understand.)

(Maybe omens are real. It wouldn't surprise me, one way or the other.)

The island was closer now, near enough to where he could see the pale line of the mountains on the far northern side. In a few more minutes, he assured himself, he and Rinoa would be back safe at Garden. He would talk to Quistis and Zell and get an update on the situation in Timber. In all likelihood, nothing interesting had happened. Maybe Caraway had increased sanctions and troops in Timber, maybe violence was spreading in the small nation. Maybe war was imminent, but he believed that was the absolute worst case scenario.

In appreciation for their help recovering the Lunatic Pandora and the Ragnarok, Laguna had offered Squall and Rinoa a free trip back to Garden on one of his speediest transport ships. Since backtracking across the overland route would cost them at least another day—and require them to waste time and money hiring another boat to ferry them from FH to Balamb—Squall quickly accepted Laguna's gift.

Down in the ship's hold, strapped in place with ropes, was the car that they had originally taken to Esthar. Behind them, in the ship's cabin, was a skeleton crew of Esthar soldiers, controlling the ship and maintaining it as it cut through the waves. The soldiers scurried from station to station, largely ignoring their passengers.

Esthar's navy, compared with the rest of its military, was severely underdeveloped, only consisting of a few dozen vessels and a couple hundred trained sailors. Esthar's policy of avoiding any and all contact with other nations forced them to mostly avoid the sea, and as such, their navy had withered over the years since Adel's rule. President Laguna had also been steadily downsizing the entire Esthar military since taking office, funneling more of the nation's wealth towards research and development instead of defense and warfare.

The island of Balamb was now close enough to where Squall could see the faint blue and gray buildings that populated the city of Balamb on the southwestern side of the island. He turned his eyes to the right, scanning for the blue glass peak of Garden.

(Shouldn't I be able to see it by now?)

Garden wasn't any larger than the nearby city of Balamb, but it was taller and more prominent. If the city was visible, then the school should be as well. Squall's worries multiplied, giving him a greasy feeling in his stomach. Rinoa's hands tightened on his arm, sharing his concerns, but not voicing them yet.

(No, it's just blending in with the mountains or something.)

(We'll see it soon.)

Another minute passed, and soon Squall was unable to deny it any longer: Garden was gone. Even from a distance, he could see the brown edges of the crater it left behind in the earth when it departed. Rinoa saw the crater too and whimpered.

(Damn it.)

"Where's Garden?" Rinoa asked, looking up at Squall.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

Footsteps approached from behind them. Squall glanced back and saw an Esthar soldier marching towards him. The soldier stopped a few paces behind them.

"We're not detecting any signs of Balamb Garden on or around the island," the soldier said. His voice, like all Esthar soldiers, was muffled by his full-faced helmet. "It's not appearing on any of our scanning equipment either. Do you want us to drop you off at the city instead?"

Squall thought about it. He knew that his first priority was to find out where Garden had gone. He doubted that anyone in Balamb would know about the whereabouts of Garden, but it was a good starting point for his search. He opened his mouth, on the verge of telling the soldier to drop them off at the city, when he thought better of it.

"Leave us by the crater," Squall said. "And give us our car. Also, could you remain on standby while we check out the island? I want to make sure that everything's safe before we commit to anything."

"Aye aye," the soldier said. He turned back to relay the order to the bridge.

Rinoa looked to Squall. "Why not go right to the city?"

Squall glanced down at her. "I don't want anyone from Balamb to see an Esthar ship floating in the bay. It'd raise questions we don't want people to ask just yet."

Rinoa shrugged. "Okay. Makes sense."

The ship adjusted its course, angling away from the city towards the spot where Garden used to rest. Squall knew that ship's relatively small size meant that it could go very close to the shore before the bottom began scraping the sandy beach. He anticipated that the ship would get as close as it could, then they would have a smaller vessel take them the rest of the way to shore.

But he was surprised to hear the sounds of machinery whirring in the hull. He looked over the side and saw, through the water, six pairs of wheels emerging underneath the boat. The wheels hit the beach and began driving the boat like a car up and out of the water.

(Esthar never fails to impress…)

The boat drove completely out of the water, up the beach, and came to a stop once it hit the edge of the island's grassy plains. The same Esthar soldier from before came out to speak to them again.

"Your car is ready below deck," the soldier said.

"Thank you," Squall said. He nodded gratefully. "We'll be back as soon as we can, with further instructions. Don't leave us."

The soldier nodded. "Aye aye."

"C'mon," Squall said to Rinoa. She tightened her grip on his arm as he headed to a hatch in the deck. The hatch was flipped open, revealing a metal staircase descending into the hold.

This particular ship was designed specifically to transport ground vehicles, so the inside of the hold was fitted to accommodate most types of cars. The pair entered the hold and found a couple of Esthar soldiers undoing the straps that held their car in place. In front of them, a large hatchway had been opened in the prow, to allow the car to drive smoothly out of the boat and onto the beach. Squall nodded to the soldiers and thanked them before getting into the car. Rinoa climbed into the passenger side.

Squall fired up the engine and drove off the ship. The car bounced as it transitioned from the ship's loading ramp onto the sand. He drove straight north, to the long, solitary road that connected Garden with Balamb. The tires squeaked when they found the asphalt, and he turned west to the city.

Squall took a glance in his rearview mirror, staring at the crater where Garden used to sit.

(Where would they go?)

(And why?)

"Do you think they're fighting in Timber?" Rinoa asked. She posed the question as calmly as she could, but Squall could hear a note of worry in her voice. He wanted to reassure her by saying something positive, but given the circumstances and the evidence, there was unlikely to be any good news waiting for them in town.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said, truthfully. "I don't see any other reason for them to take the whole Garden off the island."

Rinoa was silent. That obviously wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for.

But even if SeeD was involved in a conflict in Timber, some things didn't add up. In their earlier strategy meetings, when he, the Headmaster, Quistis, and Xu were discussing all the possibilities of a war in Timber, they had mutually agreed to only move the school in an instance where the safety of the Garden itself was at risk.

(Did Galbadia attack Balamb directly, forcing them to escape?)

It seemed unlikely, but that was the explanation that made the most sense. The nervous feeling in his stomach worsened. What could have possibly happened to make Galbadia attack both Timber and Garden simultaneously? A possible answer came to his mind in a flash.

(Another sorceress appeared.)

(Maybe multiple sorceresses.)

Squall clenched his jaw and shot a nervous sidelong glance at Rinoa. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. If her thoughts had reached the same conclusion. If she asked him, outright, what he was thinking, he would have told her without hesitation. But if she didn't ask, or bring up the subject on her own, then he would stay silent. No use getting her worried over a hypothetical situation for which he had no proof yet.

(We need more information.)

They approached the stone archway that welcomed visitors to the humble city of Balamb. Squall slowed the car to the town's single-digit speed limit and passed under the arch. The streets were built primarily for foot traffic and could only barely accommodate the width of a single car along most roads. Many other SeeDs were rather reckless when driving through the city, speeding so fast the tires squealed around corners, but even in his anxious state, Squall still preferred caution over haste.

On either side of the road, the crowded buildings pressed in on them like a wall. If either Squall or Rinoa opened their doors all the way, they would have clipped someone's mailbox or broken a person's window.

He went a few blocks into the city, then found an empty alleyway off to the side and pulled the car in there, before parking and shutting off the engine. Rinoa glanced at him quizzically.

"Why stop here?" she asked.

"I wanna talk to Zell's mother," Squall said. He opened the door and stepped out, Rinoa following behind.

Zell's mother was not a particularly great source of information. As far as Squall knew, Ma Dincht barely ever left her house. But she was honest and forthright, and with all the uncertainty of the moment, Squall decided he'd rather go to the home of an ignorant, but trustworthy person over a knowledgeable crook.

The two headed down the street. Zell's house was only a few doors down from where he'd parked, but the uneasy feeling that had been building in Squall's gut began to make him suspicious of everything. He felt exposed in the nearly empty streets. With every step, a sense that he was being watched grew in his mind. He glanced backwards several times, unconsciously brushing his hand along the grip of his gunblade, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

(I'm just being paranoid.)

The pair descended a small flight of stairs, ducking their heads as they walked through the entryway and opened the door to Zell's house. For any other home, Squall would have knocked first, but Zell's mom didn't seem to mind having sudden uninvited visitors burst in at all hours. Squall thought it was weird, but after having done it a few times, he didn't think of it anymore.

Inside the small house smelled like fresh home cooking. The air was foggy with steam, the scent of boiling vegetables and a pot roast reached Squall's nose. His stomach rumbled angrily; neither of them had eaten since leaving Esthar at dawn. Rinoa's stomach voiced its own complaint. She gripped her belly with both hands and shushed it.

(Now's not the time for food.)

He stepped further into the house and turned immediately left, to where the house's small kitchen alcove waited. As usual, Zell's mom stood inside, wearing her simple country clothes, a stained apron, and an air that always seemed content with the world, even when she wasn't smiling. Her back was to them as she stirred a pot of gravy simmering on the stove.

"Hello?" Squall said.

"Hi, Zell's Ma!" Rinoa said cheerfully. "What're you cookin'?"

(One of these days, we're going to have to ask her for her name.)

Ma Dincht turned around and smiled at the pair. "Oh, just a simple roast and vegetables. I don't usually make anything too fancy, unless I'm expecting guests. If I'd have known you were coming, I would have made something special for the occasion."

"We're not staying long," Squall said. His stomach regretted that he didn't have time to stay and eat, but duty came first. As long as Garden was missing, he would find it hard to abandon his search for any length of time, even to eat or sleep. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know what's going on around here? Have you heard where Garden went?"

"I would think you'd know that better than I," she said. "Truth be told, I didn't even know it was gone. Why? Did something happen? Is Zell all right? Is he with you?"

Squall saw the growing concern in her eyes and did his best to calm her down. He tried to think of something comforting to say that wasn't an outright lie.

(Zell's a bit of a spaz, but he can handle himself.)

"I'm sure Zell's fine, Mrs. Dincht," Squall said. "He's a tough kid."

She smiled. "Yeah, he sure is."

"Is there anything you do know?" Squall asked. He didn't mean for the question to seem so rude, but he was in a hurry and didn't realize how brusque he sounded until the words were already out of his mouth.

"About Garden?" Ma Dincht said. She shook her head. "No, nothing. I try not to think about it too much. I'd end up worrying myself crazy if I knew all that goes on with you SeeDs and everything. But we've had some excitement in Balamb, though, if you care to know."

"Oh?" Squall said.

"A few days ago, a bunch of G-Soldiers came into town," she said. She glanced at her gravy, gave it a stir to make sure it didn't burn, and continued her story. "Said they were looking for sorceresses. They brought me out of my house, and ran this little machine over me. I guess I checked out okay, because they sent me back home after a few minutes. I still have no idea what the whole story is, but everyone in town's got their own little theories on the matter. Oh, the stories I've heard over the past day or two! Some people have very vivid imaginations."

Squall crossed his arms and frowned. If Galbadia was hunting sorceresses in Balamb, it almost guaranteed that his fears were true. Another sorceress had appeared while he was away, Galbadia got spooked, attacked Garden, and SeeD had fled. If Garden was on the run from the Galbadians, then it was unlikely that Squall and Rinoa would be able to find them any time soon, let alone rejoin them.

(Damn it all…)

"Are the Galbadians still here?" Rinoa asked.

"Some, yes," Ma Dincht said. "They promised to leave once they finished searching the town, but I guess they weren't telling the whole truth. All their boats left yesterday, but most of the soldiers are still at the train station, doing who knows what. At least they aren't patrolling the streets anymore, or blocking off the main entrance. Thank goodness for small favors."

(They left some soldiers behind, in case Garden comes back.)

The picture was becoming clearer, and Squall didn't like what it was showing him. Whatever the truth was, it was obvious that much had happened in the three short days while they were away.

It frustrated him. He learned a great deal from his trip to Esthar, but as long as he was separated from Garden, the information couldn't help the students. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do, if he were back at Garden, but knowing everything he did about the sorceresses, draw points, and the Lunatic Pandora, he would at least be able to help guide their next move. Perhaps predict the next place a sorceress would appear and help mitigate the damage.

"Anything else?" Squall asked, once again realizing the harshness of his tone only after he'd spoken.

"Nothing useful," Ma Dincht said, with a shrug. "I only know local gossip. Zell always tells me that I should watch the news more often, but it's just so depressing. Someone's always at war with someone else, and the only thing that ever passes for 'good news' is when one country develops a weapon that can kill people even faster. I just wanna stay out of it."

"I know how you feel," Rinoa said, sighing wistfully.

Squall looked at the two. Although he hated warfare, bloodshed, and unnecessary death as much as anyone else, he didn't share their feelings.

(Fighting is inevitable, whether you pay attention to it or not.)

(I'd rather fight and be unhappy, than stay at home and be happy.)

(At least then I'd know that I can protect myself and others.)

He decided not to voice any of these thoughts. No sense in getting into a political and moral argument for no reason.

"We should probably be going," Squall said. "We need to figure out where Garden went as soon as possible."

"I understand," Ma Dincht said. "Tell me when you get news of Zell, all right? I worry about him."

Squall nodded. "Of course." He turned to leave, but a thought stopped him. "You wouldn't happen to have a terminal with cable access, would you?"

It was a bit of a long shot. Reliable cable access wasn't terribly common in people's homes, and was a downright rarity in the city of Balamb—which still held fast to newspapers and word-of-mouth as their primary sources of news—but he had to ask.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ma Dincht said. Squall was taken aback. "But I never use it. There's a terminal in the living room on a desk in the corner. Zell bought it so that he could have cable whenever he's home on break. Hold on, I'll set it up for you."

"No need," Squall said, holding up his hand. "We can do it."

"I insist," Ma Dincht said, gently pushing her way past Squall and out of the kitchen alcove.

She shuffled her stocky body across the room and entered into the adjacent living room, with Squall and Rinoa following a step behind her. The living room, like the rest of the house, was quaint and homey. A ring of mismatched couches and chairs with soft, comfortable cushions ringed the outside of the room. One side of the room was dominated by a small rowboat and oars. Squall didn't know if the boat had some sentimental value or was purely decorative. On the far side of the room, under a window, was a desk with some miscellaneous magazines and an ancient computer terminal.

With practiced hands, Zell's mother cleaned off the old papers and magazines, pulled out a keyboard from a drawer, and wiped everything off with the corner of her apron. When the desk was up to her standards, she turned and smiled at the couple.

"All yours," she said.

Squall nodded. "Thank you."

He pulled out a wooden chair and sat down, adjusting the keyboard and monitor before pushing the power button and starting up the computer. The computer was years out of date. Squall could hear the pops and clicks coming from the processors as the system struggled to life. After a moment, he was greeted by Ma Dincht's home screen: a stock image of a field of flowers on a bright sunny day. He clicked to access the cable network, starting off another frenzy of pops and whirrs from the system, before the computer eventually connected to the cable service.

He couldn't access Garden's network, since all their servers were located on Garden itself. That meant that he couldn't use the familiar Garden news aggregator. Instead, he clicked around until he found himself at Galbadia's aggregator, which had a tendency to be biased in favor of the government, but would at least give him a sense of what was happening in the world.

He brought up the list of news stories and his hands went completely still, his eyes scanning the headlines over and over, shock washing the color out of his face.

Deling City Authority: CARAWAY ASSASSINATED!

Galbadia Gazette: Lieutenant General of Military Assumes Command

Dollet Free Press: General Fury Caraway of Galbadia Murdered by Sorceress

Deling City Authority, Special Election Coverage: Candidates Drop Out Due to Sorceress Fears

(Fury Caraway.)

(General of Galbadia…)

Squall couldn't go any further than the first headlines. The information contained on those four lines was more than his mind was willing to process. His thoughts—once they got past the initial surprise—turned immediately to Rinoa. He looked up at her, reading her face. But her expression was completely beyond his ability to interpret. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes widened. He tried to look for signs of grief, of anger, or some other emotion he could recognize and understand, but she was a blank wall to him.

(Is she… in shock?)

At once, Squall was hit with the dire certainty that he needed to say something to her—that he was _supposed_ to say something. That's what normal, healthy people did. Normal people who cared about each other. They comforted each other in times of grief and unexpected loss. They had words to speak and physical gestures that, while they didn't undo the problem, at least made it easier to bear.

But he tried to put himself in Rinoa's situation, to read the news from her point of view, and he found he couldn't. It was true that the landscape of his mind had changed greatly since first meeting Rinoa, but he could not undo the past seventeen years of his life, almost two decades of social isolation. When he tried to think of how Rinoa would feel, he could only imagine how _he_ would feel in that situation. He would feel cold, lost, empty. He would want to retreat from people, not talk to anyone, focus on his pain and try to view it logically, so that he could understand it. When he understood his emotions, he could control them.

But he knew that wasn't like Rinoa. That wasn't what was going through her mind. The two of them came from different backgrounds and had different coping mechanisms. Things that Squall would find comforting at this time might hurt Rinoa even more, tear open her wounds and pour salt in them.

Another thought occurred to him. Maybe as Squall had become more like her, Rinoa had also been slowly becoming more like him. What if she was looking to him, waiting for him to reach forth with his clumsy and inept words of comfort, and he was hurting her with his silence and indecision? Should he try to say something and risk worsening her grief, or should he say nothing and let her sort out her feelings alone?

Amidst the chaos in his heart, Squall sensed an unexpected emotion rising in his mind: frustration. He'd spent years in a school, always knowing the answer. And here was one of the biggest tests of his life, and he had no idea what to say. His emotional incompetence embarrassed and angered him.

"I…" Squall said, hoping the right words would come to mind. They didn't.

"Click it," Rinoa said. Her voice betrayed no emotion. Either she was fighting her feelings down, or she didn't feel anything at all, Squall couldn't tell. "Let's read the article," she said, pointing at the DCA article at the top of the news.

Squall nodded and clicked on the first article.

Deling City Authority: CARAWAY ASSASSINATED!

Late last night, General Fury Caraway of the Galbadian Military was ambushed in his home by the Timber Sorceress Ciel and murdered. Several of Caraway's personal staff and guards were also killed in the attack, as they attempted to fight off the sorceress and defend the General. It is unclear how the sorceress managed to escape Timber and infiltrate Deling City without detection, but two suspects found at Caraway's mansion are believed to be part of the plot, and are currently being held for questioning. Their names have not been released to the public. Despite the efforts of local police and military, the sorceress has since evaded capture and is believed to be returning to Timber via railway. All citizens are advised to remain in their homes until the matter is resolved. Further news forthcoming.

(I wonder who the suspects are…)

Squall shook his head. That detail wasn't important right now. He had two far bigger issues to worry about. First, how would this affect the current situation between Galbadia and Timber and second, how it would affect Rinoa? The first problem was currently beyond his ability to predict, so he focused on the second. He looked at Rinoa's face. She finished reading the article a few moments after him, and looked down, her long black hair falling over her face like a veil. Her expression remained blank, still registering the initial shock.

"Are you… okay?" Squall asked. It was the only think he could think to ask. Was he supposed to reach out and touch her shoulder? Her face? Was he supposed to hug her? Or would that only make things worse?

(What am I supposed to do?)

(What _can_ I do?)

"I don't know," Rinoa said softly. She folded her arms across her chest, her hands tightening into fists, tugging at the fabric of her clothes. "This is so sudden. I knew he'd die sometime… but I always thought… you know, it'd be later."

(Damn it, what should I say?)

Inside the living room, everything was still. Squall's mind went blank, and he became intensely aware of the sound of Ma Dincht cooking in her kitchen, a mere two rooms away. The smell of her food permeated the air. He heard Ma Dincht humming to herself, and he recognized the song after hearing a couple of bars. Outside, seagulls cried plaintively and a car rumbled down the street.

It seemed that time had stopped in the living room, while the rest of the world marched on, oblivious to the giant hole that had opened up in the universe.

Squall did the only thing he could think of: he broke the situation down into the component facts, the truths he knew for certain. On the one hand, he knew that Caraway was Rinoa father, and that relationship in itself had a weight to it, of course. But he also had to consider the fact that she had openly despised her father. Maybe she didn't hate him to the point where she wished him dead, but Squall was savvy enough to know that her feelings on the subject were undoubtedly mixed.

(He was still her father. That's the biggest thing.)

Tentatively, slowly, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. He let his gloved fingers rest there, his fingers curling to squeeze gently. He waited for a response, for her to shove off his hand with disgust, or to place her own hand atop his. Instead, she did nothing, her head still hanging down, her eyes cast at the floor.

In a way, Squall wished for the old days, back when he was always alone. When he was seen as nothing more than "cold, heartless Squall." Things had been so simple then. Rinoa's feelings would mean nothing to that past version of Squall. That version would have shut out her emotions, focused on the objective, only absorbing the facts that were relevant to the mission. His feelings and the feelings of those around him were of zero consequence to the old Squall.

But he was not that person anymore. Mixed in with his confusion and anger was a stab of genuine pain, felt not for himself, but for Rinoa. Caraway was not Squall's father, and the man had meant little to him personally aside from their brief acquaintance during the mission in Deling City. But the General had been an important figure in Rinoa's life—for better or worse—and Squall _did_ care about her. It was as if a mental link had been forged between Squall and Rinoa, allowing him to feel a tiny portion of her pain, as if it were his own. He hurt because she hurt. And he hurt because, this time, he couldn't protect her.

(… I really have changed.)

He felt a slight twinge of anger. Not at Rinoa, or the Timber sorceress, or Caraway, but himself. He had changed his personality so that he was now aware of how other's felt, and so that he truly cared about his friends, and about Rinoa, but never at any point did he take the time to learn how to relate to others. Social skills—he knew—were a learned trait, practiced and perfected over the course of years, and his life of solitude had not prepared him for this moment. Why had he been so foolish, to open himself up to the possibility of pain without first developing the tools for coping with it?

(I'm so useless…)

Rinoa had always been the one who guided his heart, but now the roles had reversed, and she was the one in turmoil. Squall could save her from monsters, from evil sorceresses, from the might of Galbadia and Esthar and anyone else who threatened her, but he couldn't save her from pain, or grief, or loss. He looked at her face and it hurt him that she should suffer at all. That he could do nothing about it.

"I'm sorry," Squall said. His voice came out in a weak croak.

(I am so, so sorry.)

Could he have stopped this all from happening, if he'd stayed at Garden? Would he have made different choices, set Garden and Galbadia on a different course? If he'd been given a chance, would things have been different? Would the General still be alive?

He remembered Ellone's words, and he thought back to how much energy she'd devoted into trying to change the past. Even Sorceress Ultimecia, with her near infinite powers and mindless determination could not change history. It was useless for Squall to even entertain such thoughts.

(It's over and done with.)

(I need to focus on what I can do for Rinoa now.)

(Because now is all that matters.)

But still, he had no idea what to say, and Rinoa had yet to respond. His arm still hung in the air, stupidly, his hand on her shoulder. Was he supposed to be comforting her, rationalizing for her? Was he supposed to have some ready-made maxim like, "He's in a better place," prepared for her? He didn't know.

He felt dumb for asking, but he decided to ask anyway, "Is there… anything you need?"

(I'm an idiot.)

Rinoa shook her head.

"It's…" she said. Finally, she looked up into Squall's eyes. He noticed that she wasn't crying. Her eyes weren't even damp. "It's weird. He's my father. Was… my father. I keep feeling like I'm supposed to be screaming and bawling my eyes out. I feel like I'm supposed to be hurting, but I'm not. Not... really, anyway. And that makes me feel even worse. I… I wish it hurt more. Then, at least, it wouldn't be so confusing. I know it sounds crazy…"

"No, it's not crazy," Squall said.

Squall, an orphan for as long as he could remember, had absolutely no wisdom to offer her. He had never lost his parents; he'd never known them. He could very easily tell her what it was like, living in a world without your parents, but something told him that that would be insensitive of him. That it wasn't the right time for that. He wanted to err on the side of saying too little, rather than making the situation worse by offering foolish reassurance.

He wanted Irvine, or Selphie, or Zell, or Quistis around. For the first time in a long time, he actually wanted one of them there, to scream in his face about what a lousy boyfriend he was, how terrible of a knight he was to his sorceress. He wanted them to roll their eyes at him, make him feel sheepish, and then tell him exactly what he was supposed to say or do.

(But they're not here.)

(It's just me and her.)

Without meaning to, he began to think about Garden, and about himself. He realized that most of the people in the world had no idea about all the battles that were being raged, all the people who had died, the number of children turned into orphans by various wars. They probably had never heard about NORG's attempt to overthrow Balamb Garden, or the violent battle between G-Garden and SeeD.

And they had definitely never heard of Ultimecia, or the destruction she was destined to cause, generations in the future. Squall and his friends had saved the world from annihilation, and no one even knew who he was. They had never even heard his name. If he were to die in any of his battles, no one would care. They would finish their coffees, fold their newspapers, and go home, humming to themselves. To them, a living, breathing Squall Leonhart was about the same as a dead one.

He felt alone.

Unconsciously, he gripped Rinoa tighter. Time had stopped in the living room, and the world around them continued on, ignorant and apathetic, but Squall would not let the world's indifference darken his thoughts. The world did not know Squall's name, and they probably were unaware of General Caraway's only daughter, as she struggled with her feelings in a small house in a fishing village.

But Squall knew. And he cared. And he would do whatever he could to make sure that Rinoa knew, without question, that she was not alone.

"I'm here…" Squall said. "If you need me. If you need anything."

She smiled. It was a sad, troubled smile, but it was the first real expression she'd made since they'd come to the computer. She leaned her head to the side and brushed her cheek along the back of his hand.

In the next room, Ma Dincht cooked and hummed. Her world, her life, was exactly the same as it was twenty minutes ago.

"Click on the next link," Rinoa said after a few seconds. "I wanna know more."

Squall nodded. He took his hand off her shoulder and tapped a button on the keypad, bringing up the next news story.

Galbadia Gazette: Lieutenant General of Military Assumes Command

In the wake of General Caraway's assassination, command of the Galbadian Military—and, by extension, Galbadia itself—has passed down the chain of command to Lieutenant General Ancelin Vaschel. General Vaschel has already released an official report, linked _here_, in which he promises to "continue the noble and patriotic work of General Caraway, and ensure the peace and security of the Galbadian citizens."

However, because of the extreme security threat posed by the sorceress, who remains at large, General Vaschel has been unable to make any public appearances and is currently being sequestered in a secret location for his own safety.

"Noble and patriotic," Rinoa said, coldly repeating the words. "Funny. What's the next one say?"

The next article, from the Dollet Free Press, initially seemed to offer more details about the assassination, but once they clicked the link, they found that the people of Dollet knew nothing more than the Galbadians, and were merely copying Galbadia's coverage of the story, almost word-for-word. Squall went down and clicked the next article.

Deling City Authority, Special Election Coverage: Candidates Drop Out Due to Sorceress Fears

The Sorceress Ciel's terrorist attacks have had their intended effect, cowing almost all of the candidates running for office, causing them to drop out of the race entirely. Within hours of the announcement of Caraway's death, the first candidates began announcing their withdrawal from the race, leaving only the most recent addition, the Headmaster of Galbadia Garden, Martine Dodonna, as the last person left in the running.

Many assumed that Headmaster Dodonna would soon drop out as well, leaving the Galbadian election without any candidates, but Dodonna bravely made an announcement this morning that he intends to remain in the race, declaring that he will "refuse to allow fear and intimidation to dictate [his] choices."

With the field now empty except for one candidate, and the cutoff date for new entrants already closed as of midnight last night, Galbadian officials are now left wondering if Dodonna will win by default. An emergency meeting is scheduled to be held this afternoon between the District Governors and the acting President, Lieutenant General Vaschel, to discuss whether to declare Dodonna's victory by default, or reopen admissions to allow other candidates to run for office against Dodonna. An announcement on this subject is expected later this evening.

(Headmaster Martine is running for president?)

Squall almost had to laugh at the insanity of it all. After weeks of almost nothing happening in the world, suddenly everything falls apart in the three days that Squall and Rinoa are away. He felt like he'd somehow slipped into some alternate reality, where all the worst possible scenarios were playing out in sequence.

Rinoa turned to him, her eyes steely, but still dry. "What do we do now?"

In a way, he was glad that she was asking him questions that he was better equipped to answer. Comforting others was beyond his ability, but forming plans was something he was a trained veteran at.

"We need to find Garden," Squall said, resolutely. "We're useless until then."

Rinoa nodded and turned back to the screen. Squall sifted through the headlines, but news of Caraway's death had overwhelmed everything, and no mention was made of Garden or its movements. He clicked through all the articles, reading about the sorceress, watching her video of her declaring Timber's independence, as well as reading reports about the growing sorceress fears in Galbadia and elsewhere.

He had to dig back into the archives to yesterday's news, where he found a single article that mentioned Garden, reported on by the Deling City Authority.

The headline read simply, "SeeD Attacks Timber, is Repelled."

He clicked the article and got a vague summary of a multi-front battle waged on both sides of Timber, by the mobile Garden. According to the article, the attack was easily beaten back by the superior Galbadia force after a short skirmish, but Squall knew that the DCA was heavily biased towards Galbadia, and was likely withholding the whole truth. Still, it gave him a hint as to the whereabouts of Garden.

(It says Garden was last seen in the ocean outside Timber…)

That didn't help him much. Even if he could pinpoint their location, he had no way of reaching them. The Esthar ship that waited back on the shore technically had the ability to reach Garden, but the Esthar soldiers made it clear that they would not go any further north or west than Balamb Island, for fear of running into Galbadian patrols. He might be able to charter a private boat from Balamb, but even then, he'd have to randomly comb the entire ocean looking for Garden, which would be fruitless for sure.

(There's only one thing we can do.)

He turned to Rinoa. "We have to go back to the ship."

She nodded. "Okay."

He couldn't tell if Rinoa's reaction was positive or negative. Was she moving on, dealing with the news of her father's passing in a healthy way, or was she retreating into her mind, allowing her conflicted feelings to eat away at her in silence? He had no way of knowing.

Hoping that he was doing the right thing, he shut off the terminal and stood up, stepping out of the living room and towards the front door. He didn't wait for Rinoa to take his hand, instead reaching for her himself and holding her fingers tightly in his gloved hand, trying his best to convey—without words—that he was there for her if she needed him.

(It's all I can do.)

They passed the kitchen alcove, where Ma Dincht continued to merrily cook away, unaware that Rinoa had recently lost a father, and that her son was likely involved in a war at that very moment. He paused, wondering what, if anything, he should tell her about the news they'd received about Garden. Then he remembered that she said she preferred to stay ignorant of any dangers her son might be in.

(Not a choice I'd make personally, but I'll respect her decision.)

"Thank you for the computer, Mrs. Dincht," Squall said. Rinoa quickly composed herself, forming a friendly smile. She bowed her head.

"Yeah, you really helped us out," she said.

"Eh, it's the least I can do for you kids," she said. She turned to the side, so she could keep up with the conversation while still keeping an eye on her roast, which she'd removed from the oven. She used a ladle to drizzle juices on the meat, making it glisten. Squall's stomach rumbled again.

"We'll be leaving now," Squall said. "Again, thank you."

"Are you sure you aren't staying?" Ma Dincht asked. "The roast is done."

His hunger demanded that he stay for dinner, but current events refused to let him slow down. A part of him was afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, somehow the world would fall apart even worse than it already had.

"Sorry," Squall said. "Another time, maybe."

"All right," Ma Dincht said.

They said their goodbyes, and Squall gently pulled Rinoa out through the front door and into the streets.

The road outside was empty, the warm salt air filled with the sound of seagulls and the occasional clanging of a buoy out in the ocean. Squall could have almost imagined that he and Rinoa were alone in the world, the last survivors of some global catastrophe.

"Are you all right?" Squall asked. It was the best question he could come up with, and he resolved to ask it more often in the future. To pay more attention to Rinoa's needs and feelings, so that he could learn—in time—how to help her, should any other disasters happen in their lives.

"I'll be fine…" Rinoa said. "Just… stay with me, okay?"

Squall smiled, almost injured by the implications of her words.

(As if I was planning on ever leaving her.)

"Always," he said.

He met her eyes and for the first time, he noticed a few tears forming in the bottom, threatening to spill over and run down her face. She brushed them away with her hand before they could escape.

"Thanks…" she said.

With that, he climbed up the steps and into the street, heading towards the alleyway where they had parked the car. He strode quickly, with a purpose, and Rinoa almost had to jog to keep up, still tethered to Squall by their interlocked hands.

"Where to next?" she asked.

"Back to Esthar," Squall said. "We need more information. And we have to start preparing for a war."


	18. Chapter 18: Leadership Qualities

_**Chapter 18**_

_**Leadership Qualities**_

(Quistis)

Quistis sat in her office, her glasses pressed close to her face, her body angled over a topographical map of the world. The eastern half of the map was curled into a tube and out of sight; nothing east of Balamb had any relevance to her at the moment. Instead, her eyes combed over the Galbadian continent again and again, checking the major cities, the train routes, the major roads, the landscape, and the shorelines.

There was nothing on that map that she didn't already know. She could, if she wanted to, draw a detailed world map entirely from memory and have it be almost as precise as any of the world's official maps. But she was not reading the map to gain any new insight from it, or learn any additional information. She desired pure logic, an unbiased, accurate representation of the world.

The map would not agree with her, simply because she was acting SeeD Commander. The map wouldn't tell her that her plan was a solid one, just because it was her friend. The map could only show the world as it truly was, regardless of who Quistis was or what she stood for.

Although she trusted the advice from the Headmaster and her allies, sometimes she wondered if they agreed with her only because they wanted her to feel confident in her leadership. This was a foolish thought, she knew. The Headmaster wouldn't blithely go along with her plans just to spare her feelings, yet the doubt remained.

So she pored over the map again and again, trying to erase the doubt with irrefutable facts and data.

(This is the right plan.)

(This is the next logical step.)

Her worries were interrupted by the chiming of the intercom. After a moment of fumbling and muttering, Headmaster Cid's voice came over the speakers. "Ah. Here we go. Yes, Commander Quistis to my office, please."

The intercom chimed again and the line went dead.

Obsessively neat—almost to a fault—Quistis refused to leave her office in even the slightest disarray. She rolled up the map and tucked it in its appropriate drawer. She took what few documents remained for her to finish and stacked them in a pile in her inbox, then removed her glasses and placed them in a side drawer.

There was no need for her to rush. For once, she already knew what Headmaster Cid was calling her to his office for, and it was nothing urgent. She had already asked him to alert her when they were within ten minutes of Dollet, and the Headmaster was merely obeying her request.

She pushed back from her desk and stood up. Her eyes went down to her clothes, to inspect her uniform before leaving, but when she looked at herself, she remembered that she'd changed into her civilian clothes an hour previously. She was momentarily surprised to see herself dressed so casually. Her peach-colored dress and high black boots, once almost as familiar as her own skin, had become strange to her.

(When was the last time I was in my civilian clothes?)

It had been a while. She marveled at this fact for a moment, then pulled her coiled whip off a hook next to her door, belted it to a loop on her waistband, and stepped outside, closing her office door behind her. She strode confidently out of the dormitories, very aware of how her clothes made her stand out in the Garden, where everyone else was still wearing their uniforms.

Out in the halls, the general air among the students was light and celebratory. Only last night, Xu had radioed in from the TV Station, announcing that General Caraway had been assassinated by the sorceress. Because of strict limitations to their radio use, Xu did not elaborate further on the situation, but many SeeDs took this news to mean that the war was essentially over, or at least in its final stages. After all, they reasoned, with its head cut off, how long could the snake continue to live?

Quistis had taken a more pragmatic approach and thought through the situation logically. The sudden assassination of the General would be an unexpected blow to the Galbadians, but hardly a fatal one. She knew that the G-Army had a rigid chain of command, as well as contingency plans for every possible outcome, including assassination of the General during a state of martial law. The best she could realistically hope for was a few moments of confusion, while Galbadia recovered from this shock. No more than that.

But confusion, she knew, was a blade that cut both ways. With no cable access and extremely limited radio services out in the ocean, Quistis and the rest of SeeD had been working mostly blind since the operation had begun. She knew that Caraway had been assassinated—Xu would never report something so major until she was absolutely sure it was true—but that was the extent of her knowledge. What was Galbadia's reaction to this news? What was going on with the election? Was Galbadia going to ask SeeD for peace, or did they have another plan?

These were questions Quistis had to answer. She had two choices: either sit in the ocean and wait for Galbadia to send another envoy or Xu to send another communication, or go out and find the answers herself. She knew that she would doubt herself, regardless of what choice she made, but if she was destined to be criticized for her choices, she would want be blamed for taking action, rather than for taking no action.

(And Dollet is the closest place that will have reliable news.)

It was a gamble. Leaving the immediate vicinity of Timber left it vulnerable to counterattack. If Galbadia surprised her and pushed all their forces down upon Timber while SeeD was away, it could be a decisive end to the entire war. But she had concluded—and the Headmaster agreed—that it would take days for Galbadia to plan and stage such a huge operation, and with their leader recently deceased, it was reasonable to assume that the government would need some time to recover.

Still, Quistis could not shake her doubts. She passed students in the hall who recognized her even in her civilian clothes. They nodded, smiled, and said, "Commander" politely. She tried to match their energy and enthusiasm, but couldn't. They were excited because everything appeared to be going SeeD's way, and the end of the conflict seemed to be in sight. There was even a rumor that Garden was going to Dollet in order to negotiate Timber's liberation with Galbadia on neutral territory.

Quistis wished that that rumor were true, but wishing did not make it so.

(If only it were that simple…)

She knew in her heart the conflict was only beginning. What had once been a mere uprising in Timber had now become a murder plot in Deling City. The war had been brought into the heart of Galbadia, and few things could stir people into a war frenzy better than the direct invasion of their homeland.

(Especially an invasion by a sorceress.)

If there was anyone left in Galbadia who was still neutral to the conflict in Timber, they would not remain neutral for long. This assassination would energize the Galbadians and encourage retaliation.

Quistis pushed the button for the elevator, lost in her thoughts. Two other girls, a pair of cadets in their blue uniforms, stepped up beside her to wait for the elevator.

"Commander," both cadets said simultaneously. Quistis smiled and nodded. She was worried that they would take this opportunity to ask her questions about the trip to Dollet, or ask about state of the operation overall. She feared, most of all, that she wouldn't have adequate answers to their questions. That they would scoff at her logic and criticize her leadership.

"Can't you see the obvious flaws in your plans?" they would say. "Are you really so foolish?"

To her relief, the two cadets immediately turned to each other and descended into meaningless small talk. Quistis sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

The elevator arrived with a chime. Quistis and the two girls stepped inside. One of them pushed the button for the second floor, while Quistis reached forward pressed for the third. The elevator doors slid closed, and the machinery hummed as it brought the three to the upper levels.

(I'm just tired…)

(Not thinking straight.)

She hadn't had a full night's rest since the operation had begun. It wasn't that she was overwhelmed with work—she usually finished all her duties well in time for bed—but she worked long into the night going over the details of the plans and the maps again and again, making sure she wasn't making any tactical errors.

(I'm not going to let the students down.)

The elevator chimed as it arrived at the second floor and the two girls exited, leaving Quistis alone in the elevator. The doors shut and the elevator continued its journey upwards.

(Anything less than perfection is failure.)

With another chime, the elevator reached the third floor and deposited Quistis in the Headmaster's receiving room. The door to his office was slightly ajar, left open in anticipation her arrival. She stepped inside and crossed the marble floor to his desk, her shoes clicking with every step. The late afternoon sun beat down through the skylight, making the office appear to glow with a reddish orange hue.

Cid looked up from his paperwork as Quistis stopped before his desk and snapped off a salute.

"At ease," he said. "Nida says we're a few minutes from Dollet. I wanted to ask you if you know who's accompanying you on this trip."

In truth, Quistis hadn't put much thought into it. Dollet was probably safe for SeeD—they'd never heard any intelligence reports to suggest otherwise—so she hadn't seen any point in worrying much about the specifics of her team. She would simply take whoever was available, just for the sake of not going alone into town.

Quistis' thoughts on the subject were interrupted by a knock on the door. Cid looked up, furrowing his brow.

"Now who could that be?" he said. "Come in!"

Mireya poked her head through the doorway and then strode across the office, her neat SeeD uniform appearing crisp and immaculate in the sunshine. Her young face was hard and cold, her gait rigid and professional. She stopped next to Quistis and saluted the Headmaster. Cid put her at ease.

"You have a question, Mireya?" Cid asked.

"For the Commander, yes," Mireya said. She turned to Quistis. "I'd like to go with you into Dollet, if that is alright."

Quistis had to admit, Mireya was probably the furthest person from her mind when considering who she preferred on her team. After their argument yesterday, Quistis would have liked more time apart, to let them both cool down.

On the other hand, she had to admit that there was a certain logic to bringing Mireya. Emotionally, Quistis didn't want to be anywhere near Mireya at the moment, but professionally she knew that refusing Mireya's request would only worsen their already frayed relationship. As Commander, she was the leader of all the SeeDs—even the ones she didn't particularly like.

(This could be a chance for us to bond. Perhaps begin to understand one another.)

"I'd be glad to have you," Quistis said. "Change into your civilian clothes and meet me by the front gate when we arrive at Dollet. Bring your weapon, as well, though I don't think we'll need it."

Mireya nodded. "Thank you, Commander," she said. She spun around and exited the office. When Quistis heard the hum of the elevator as it brought Mireya safely out of hearing range, she turned back to the Headmaster.

"I don't understand her, sir," Quistis said.

"Hm?" Cid said, looked up at her. "What's not to understand?"

"I don't know why she dislikes me so much," Quistis said. "Is it something I did?"

The Headmaster waved a hand dismissively. "She doesn't dislike you. She's just very…" he gazed into the distance, trying to think of an appropriate description. "… Very _serious_."

Quistis put a hand on her hip. "Well, Squall is very serious too, and he and I get along."

"If I recall correctly," Cid said, "You two only started to bond after you were dismissed as instructor. Try to understand, Quistis, that people like Mireya and Squall have a hard time being friendly towards their superiors. It goes against their nature. And you are the SeeD Commander, remember. That's the first thing she sees when she talks to you: your rank. It will take some time before she can see you for who you are as a person, and until then, she'll treat you like her Commander, and nothing more."

(He has a point…)

She remembered—it seemed an eternity ago—the night of Squall's graduation into SeeD. Coincidentally, it was the same day she'd been dismissed by the Garden Faculty, and reduced to nothing more than a regular SeeD. That night, under the stars, Quistis had brought him to the "secret area" behind the training center, opened up her heart to him, confiding her fears, and seeking solace from her best and most trusted student.

He then told her to go talk to a wall.

(Maybe she is a lot like Squall then.)

Being reminded of that memory—of how Squall used to be before he met Rinoa—made her feel a little better. Time and frequent interactions had turned her and Squall into friends and comrades, and it could do the same for her and Mireya. She began to look forward to spending a little time with Mireya. It was a chance to build up mutual trust and friendship. If nothing else, maybe at least it would reduce the hostility between them.

(Perhaps it won't be so bad after all.)

Quistis felt the floor beneath her feet shift as Garden slowed to a stop. A moment later, Nida descended the steel lift from the bridge, his hands folded in front of him. When the lift hit the floor, he hopped off and saluted the pair.

"Dollet's just in sight," Nida said. "Where d'ya want me to park?"

"As close to the city as you can," Quistis said. "No sense in making us walk any farther than necessary. Dollet's not going to raise a fuss if Garden is at their doorstep."

"Aye aye, Commander," Nida said. He jumped back onto the lift and rode it up to the bridge. The floor shifted again, and Garden lurched forward. Through the windows around the office, Quistis could see the rocky shoreline grow ever closer, as well as the shimmering city of Dollet, which was nestled in a massive sandstone canyon.

Nida avoided the cliffs, went up the beach, and around the city. With the city barricaded on all sides by high cliffs, he had to travel a brief distance before he found a clearing wide enough and flat enough to serve as a landing place. When he did, Garden stopped again, then sank to the ground.

Nida came down the lift again, rushing to meet up with Quistis. Habitually, he snapped off another salute.

"Yes?" she said.

"Can I come with?" he asked, dropping his arm. "Please? I'm always stuck on the bridge. I'd like to get out once in a while, you know? If it's okay with you, I mean."

Quistis crossed her arms. "I don't think that's a good idea. We need you to monitor the radio, in case Xu or the others call in."

"But… but… aww…" he said. He slumped his shoulders dramatically, a gesture he'd picked up from watching Zell.

"Sorry," Quistis said.

"I can take the radio," the Headmaster said. "I'll be sitting here doing paperwork all day. I can just leave it by my desk and relay any important information to you when you come back."

Nida brightened and looked at Quistis with big, puppy eyes. "Is it okay, Commander?"

Quistis smiled. "Sure. Give the radio to the Headmaster, change into your civilian clothes, and meet me by the front gate. With your weapon."

"Yes, ma'am!" Nida said. He scampered over to the Headmaster and pulled the radio out of his pocket. With a whispered, "Thanks, sir" he set it on Cid's desk and rejoined Quistis. Together the two exited the office and rode the elevator down to the first floor.

(Now I'll have the chance to learn about both Mireya and Nida.)

(Interesting…)

In the short trip down to the first floor, Quistis realized how little she actually knew about Garden's pilot. She spoke to him almost every day, but it was always to issue orders or directions. Aside from his name and his general duties, she knew almost nothing about him personally. She frowned.

(I'll have to fix that.)

The two parted ways when the elevator opened, with Nida rushing off to the far end of the Garden to the dormitories, while Quistis went straight ahead to the front gate. She went over a mental checklist for everything she might need on the trip, but the list was very short. The trip to Dollet was solely for gathering information, and all she truly needed was her mind and her memory. She had her whip as well, which could handle any unforeseen circumstances.

Mireya was waiting by the massive steel door that had been welded to the front entrance. At first, Quistis was going to admonish Mireya for failing to change into her civilian clothes, until Quistis got closer and realized that Mireya was in her civilian clothes. It just so happened that Mireya chose to dress, for leisure, almost exactly as a SeeD dressed for duty. She wore a black, button down blouse with matching skirt and sensible, all-purpose shoes. Strapped to her waist was a Galbadian military saber—her weapon of choice. From a distance, she looked like a SeeD ready for battle.

Quistis nodded at her. They were alone in front of the gate.

"Commander, I have a question," Mireya said.

"Go ahead," Quistis said. She hoped that it wouldn't be a question about the mission. Quistis had a feeling that if anyone in Garden was going to judge her decisions, it was going to be Mireya. She didn't want to start off their trip with another argument.

"How well do you know the Headmaster?" she asked. "I'm curious."

(… Odd…)

"Well…" Quistis said, unsure of how much information to share. But then Cid's words came back to her. She remembered how he had said that Mireya would have trouble seeing her as a person, and not just as the SeeD Commander. With this thought in mind, Quistis decided to be open and honest and reveal a fair amount about herself.

"He and I actually go very far back," Quistis said. "He and Matron—Edea, I mean—ran the orphanage where I grew up. I don't have many memories of back then, but what memories I do have are all fond ones. Later, when I joined SeeD, he often encouraged me and guided me, especially after I became an instructor. Recently he and I have grown much closer, and I feel that he trusts me. And I trust him in return. He has always been kind and gentle my whole life and I respect him deeply."

Quistis felt good, sharing this bit of her life story. It was more than most anyone knew about her, and there was something satisfying about revealing her humanity to another person. But Mireya's face didn't seem to register any emotion. After a moment of thought, she said, "And it's his kindness and gentleness that you value in him?"

Quistis shrugged. "Yes, but there is more to it than that. He is also more intelligent than he lets on, and more capable than he would have us believe. He's strong, but modest as well. I respect those qualities in people."

Mireya nodded. "I see. What if you—hypothetically—found out that he was neither kind nor gentle? Would your opinion of him change? Would you still respect him as a leader?"

Quistis bristled.

(What is she getting at?)

"I… I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying," Quistis said. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Mireya shook her head and waved a hand. "No, no. Just a hypothetical question. You see, I'm just concerned that you're the type of person who puts loyalty above logic. I fear that if you—hypothetically, of course—found out that the Headmaster was not all he wants us to believe he is, you would stand by him nonetheless, just for the sake of unity. Even in the face of opposing evidence."

Quistis' mood was wrecked, almost instantly. She trusted the Headmaster, respected him, and had never been given the slightest reason to doubt him for an instant. It seemed sacrilegious to question his integrity, even in a hypothetical situation. She stared hard at the girl beside her and wondered what Mireya's objective was, asking such an inflammatory question.

Then the thought entered her head that maybe this was Mireya's awkward and tactless way of breaking the ice with her Commander. Squall had once been anti-social to the point of seeming hostile many times, but Quistis never exploded on him. If she had given in to her anger back then, it was unlikely that she and Squall would be friends today.

So she resolved to answer the question truthfully, hoping that Mireya would slowly open up and be less harsh with her questions.

"Well…" Quistis said. "I suppose if the Headmaster was proven false, I'd have to side against him. I believe in honesty and integrity, and I'd be a hypocrite to side with a man who believed in neither of those things."

Mireya nodded. "I agree."

And the conversation abruptly ended there.

Quistis paused, expecting Mireya to ask follow up questions, or perhaps suggest another outrageous hypothetical situation, but her companion chose to remain silent, watching the students pass in the walkway down the hall without speaking. After a few minutes, Nida came jogging into view.

Nida was a quiet, reserved individual, and his clothes reflected his personality perfectly. He wore a steel-gray t-shirt and loose-fitting blue jeans. There were no decals or logos on his clothes, no bright colors or stripes. No accessories. Only quiet, solid colors, expressing nothing. Resting on his shoulder was a willowy-thin spear slightly taller than he was, with an ornate blade shaped like a dagger.

"We ready to go?" Nida asked brightly. Quistis nodded. With that, Nida stepped over to the control panel for the heavy steel door. He punched a glowing red button and the massive front gate for Garden folded downward to the ground, allowing the warm sun to spill into the wide hall.

When the door was all the way open, Quistis walked down the ramp, followed closely by Mireya and Nida. When all three were outside, Nida rushed around the ramp to go push another button on the outside of Garden, sealing the door shut behind them. Then the three headed down the road, with Mireya and Nida flanking on either side of Quistis.

The paved roadway descended down into a dusty canyon. The canyon snaked its way towards the sea, following the path of a river that—generations ago—had carved its shape. Now, where there had once been the mouth of that mighty river, there was a glittering city, shielded on two sides by canyon walls and resting on the edge of the ocean.

Quistis was bothered by her brief conversation with Mireya back inside Garden, but she was determined to form a bond with the girl nonetheless. However, after Mireya's bizarre hypothetical, Quistis couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so she approached the problem from a new angle: by talking to Nida instead.

"So, Nida," Quistis said. "You seemed eager to get off the bridge. Do you dislike piloting Garden?"

"Oh, no no no, Commander!" he said, shocked she would even suggest such a thing. "I love it. It's just, you know, I'd like to do other things once in a while too."

"Like what?" Quistis asked, sensing an opening for further conversation. "What do you really want from SeeD?"

"Hmm… I haven't really put much thought into it," Nida said. "I guess I like… I like knowing that I'm useful. That if people need me, I can help them. And when you guys stick me on the bridge for weeks on end, I start to wonder if that's all I'm good for, you know? I feel like I'm not living up to my potential when I'm only doing one thing."

"Then I'll be sure to include you in our plans more frequently," Quistis said, with a smile.

"That'd be great!" Nida said.

"How about you, Mireya?" Quistis asked. "What do you want from SeeD?"

Unlike Nida, Mireya had already considered this question long before Quistis ever asked it, and her response reflected that fact. She spoke without hesitation. "I want to be perfect. In everything. Absolute mastery of myself and my surroundings. SeeD, I believe, can offer me that. Or at least start me on the path."

Quistis was struck by this answer, and how surprisingly similar it was to her own outlook on SeeD. Quistis empathized with the desire for perfection; she herself had mused on this idea earlier that day. This discovery that she had some common ground with Mireya brightened her outlook, and gave her hope that she would find even more similarities between them, if she began to look.

(We may never be friends, but perhaps we can learn to understand one another.)

"I don't wanna be perfect," Nida said. "I don't think it's possible. It's like… wishing you were someone else, or wishing you could fly. Yeah, it'd be nice, but I'd rather have goals that I could actually reach."

"You might be right," Mireya said. "The pursuit of perfection is almost certain to be futile. But for me, I cannot accept lowering my standards to anything less. Why should I settle for inferior dreams? Why should I be tolerant of imperfection?"

"That's just life," Nida said. He shrugged. "You can't be perfect all the time."

"So then you think we shouldn't try?" Mireya asked. She looked past Quistis and to Nida. Her gaze was cold.

"I… well… I mean," Nida said. After a few more stuttering attempts at a rebuttal, he lapsed into silence. He glanced at Quistis, wordlessly asking for her support.

"I happen to agree with Mireya on this," Quistis said. "Whether or not we can actually achieve perfection is not necessarily the point. It's the pursuit that's important. Striving for perfection leads to greatness, even if perfection is never truly reached."

"Well said," Mireya said. She turned her gaze to the road ahead, adding nothing more.

Quistis was surprised by herself. It was if those words had been floating around in her mind all her life, and then assembled together for the first time in that very moment. And now that they were out in space, spoken aloud, she realized how much she believed—had always believed—those words to be true.

(I seem to be learning about myself as well.)

The trio reached the bottom of the hill and crossed through the wide metal archway that welcomed travelers into the city of Dollet.

Stepping into Dollet was like traveling backwards in time. The design of the houses, the cars that passed by on the road, and the way people dressed all gave the impression that the city was trapped in a bygone age, while the rest of the world marched onward. The buildings were built one after the other, in long rows that formed walls on either side of the streets. Flashing neon lights advertised pubs, restaurants, nightclubs, and general stores. The brick streets had a thin layer of shiny grease on them, making Quistis' boots slip a little with each step. The smell of car exhaust, cigarettes, and cooking filled the air.

"There's a tavern with cable across the street," Quistis said, pointing at a bar that advertised "Free Cable" in glowing pink letters on its front window. Quistis waited for a gap in traffic, then hustled across the street and to the bar. She passed under a sign that revealed the bar to be named, "Paradise Spirits," and pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, with Mireya and Nida right behind her.

Three grimy pool tables and a thick haze of smoke dominated the small tavern. A couple of regular patrons sitting on barstools and nursing strong drinks twisted around and stared sleepily at the new arrivals, then turned back their conversations, their booze, or one of the two televisions mounted high on the wall behind the glittering bar.

Quistis looked at the twin screens, each one broadcasting a different sports game. She stepped her way between the pool tables and approached the bartender, a heavyset man wearing an apron that may have once been white, years and years ago. He was polishing the bar and cleaning glasses with a rag.

"Excuse me," she said, leaning forward. "Can you turn one of those televisions to the news?"

The bartender looked up at her and grunted. "No. Ain't nothing but the assassination on today. I'm tired a hearin' about the damned Galbadians and their General or whatever. You want news, there's a cable terminal in the corner by the jukebox. Knock yourself out."

(Well, forgive me for asking…)

Quistis nodded at him and turned around. Tucked in the far corner of the room, next to a glowing pink jukebox, was a stained computer terminal on a small desk, with a cracked wooden stool beside it. Quistis went over there and pulled out the stool and sat on it. The legs wobbled as she sat and the terminal's keyboard was sticky and covered in a mysterious brown film.

(Glad I've got gloves on.)

She fired up the console and connected to Dollet's major news sites. She read through the articles quickly, getting herself up to speed on Galbadian activities in the wake of Caraway's death.

As she expected, the Lieutenant General of the Army had quickly filled in for Caraway. So far there had been no troubles with the exchange of power. Mixed in with the real news were stories about Caraway's life, plans for an upcoming memorial service, and the occasional article where paranoid people predicted future assassinations that would be carried out by the sorceress. Quistis mostly ignored these articles, until her eyes fell on a story about how all other presidential candidates had dropped out of the running except for one. She clicked on it and read it.

"Martine Dodonna?" Quistis said. She pulled her face back from the screen, perplexed. "The Headmaster of G-Garden? Since when was he even in the running?"

Behind her, Nida and Mireya were silent, but Quistis soon found other articles that answered her questions. She began losing track of time, clicking through article after article. Her trance was only broken when she heard a handful of bar patrons erupt into moans of annoyance. A few booed loudly.

"Hmm?" Quistis said, in response to the interruption. She spun around on the stool to see what the commotion was. The bar patrons were looking at the television screens and sneering. There, on both screens simultaneously, was Headmaster Martine, standing behind an elaborate podium that bore the official seal of Galbadia on the front. He was addressing the camera, gesturing with both hands as he spoke, but the televisions were muted, so she couldn't hear him. On the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen, the words, "SPECIAL REPORT" scrolled by again and again.

"Aw, not this crap again," the bartender said. He reached up to turn the televisions off, but was stopped by Quistis' protest.

"Wait!" she said, getting up and rushing to the bar. "Could you unmute it, please?"

The bartender looked at her, his hand hovering above the power button. "You buying anything, lady, or you just browsing?"

"Um… I'll have a soda. Whatever," she said. "Please."

"Fine," the bartender grumbled. Instead of turning the televisions off, he hit the volume, allowing Martine's voice to come over the speakers. The bartender ignored the televisions and poured Quistis' soda into a glass and set it on a napkin before her. She didn't notice the soda, her attention focused on the screens.

"—the wake of this tragedy," Martine said. He paused for effect, then continued. "But we must realize the simple truth of the matter: this was an act of terrorism committed by a terrorist, with the intent of breaking our will as a people, and forcing us to submit to the whims of villains. General Caraway attempted to reason with these irrational rebels, and has paid the ultimate price for his temperance and patience. It is clear now that kindness extended to these terrorists will only be met with hatred, and offers of peace will be returned with acts of violence. The sorceress in Timber must be brought to justice, swiftly and decisively. There is no other option."

Martine paused again, his words engulfed by a torrent of frenzied applause. It was in this moment that Quistis realized that he was speaking from the balcony of the Presidential Residence in the middle of Deling City. It didn't escape her notice that Martine was coincidentally talking about assassinations and sorceresses in the very spot where the Sorceress Ultimecia—in Edea's body—had murdered Vinzer Deling, her first action in her failed attempt to conquer the world.

"As President, it is my duty and my obligation to protect the people of Galbadia from any who would cause them harm," Martine said.

(President?!)

(So it's decided. He's won by default.)

Martine was still talking, preventing Quistis from considering the implications of his election.

"But this is a threat to more than just Galbadia," Martine said. "The sorceress is a threat to the entire world. Not just this sorceress, but all sorceresses in history, and all sorceresses in the future. The sorceress is the enemy of mankind and must be destroyed, in order for mankind to continue. With this in mind, I have authorized the full mobilization of Galbadia's army, the full weight of our might to be brought down upon Timber and all who stand in support of the rebels. I will not relent until the threat is neutralized. I will not submit until the cancer of the world is cut out. This I swear."

He paused, allowing another burst of applause to sweep over the crowd that had assembled on the streets below him. The blood drained from Quistis' body as if someone had punched holes in her. It was almost too much to believe. The exact series of events that she and the Headmaster had assumed were impossible were now coming to pass. Galbadia had not been stunned into a temporary truce by the death of their general. On the contrary, they had gathered strength from it, muscled in a new president, and were launching a full counterattack less than twenty-four hours after Caraway's death.

(I've made a terrible mistake…)

Martine continued.

"Twice before, Galbadia has stood alone in the path of a tyrant sorceress who sought to destroy us. Once, seventeen years ago, against Sorceress Adel and her Esthar army. And again, less than two months ago, when the Sorceress Edea assassinated President Deling and started a world war. Both times Galbadia has prevailed. And we shall again. Long live Galbadia!"  
Martine stepped back from the podium to thunderous applause. He raised his hand to the crowd, accepting their love. His face was stern, but confident as well. The volume of the applause died down as a female reporter's voice came over the video feed.

"That was newly appointed President Martine Dodonna," the reporter said, "addressing the citizens in Deling City."

"You seen enough?" the bartender asked Quistis. He already had his hand up to the power button on the television.

Quistis nodded. "Yes, thank you."

She reached into her pocket and blindly shoved a few gil onto the counter to pay for her drink. Whether she paid too much or too little, she neither knew nor cared. She was absolutely lost in her thoughts, and the trivial matter of a bar tab was beneath her at the moment. She turned and marched out of the tavern, trying to keep from breaking into a sprint. Trying to keep from screaming.

(Stupid, stupid, stupid!)

Once back outside, Quistis turned up the street and headed for the city exit. She sped up to a jog, then broke into a sprint, unable to restrain herself.

("Everything that happens from here on is your fault.")

And what a terrible, painful coincidence, that the very same person who'd laid that criticism upon her was with Quistis now, running a few steps behind her. The three cleared the city walls, with citizens of Dollet observing their flight from the city. Mireya sped up to get alongside Quistis.

"This was a mistake," she said between breaths. "We never should have abandoned our position."

"Yes, in hindsight, yes," Quistis said, gritting her teeth and gasping for breath as she ran up the long sloping hill back to Garden. "But we had no way of knowing that until now."

"It was a tactical error," Mireya said, refusing to give up the point. "You took a massive gamble, and you lost."

"Yes, I know!" Quistis said.

"Furthermore," Mireya said, "We're probably already too late. Martine wouldn't announce his plans to attack Timber until after he'd already put the plans in motion. Who knows how close the G-Army is to Timber by now. The city may already be under attack."

"Yes, I know!" Quistis repeated.

"Galbadia always retaliates after being attacked," Mireya said, her voice rising. "Their national pride gets in the way of rational thought, and they plunge in headfirst after their enemies. You should have known this was coming!"

The three reached Garden. Quistis ran to the cool metal wall of the school and found the keypad that opened the door from the outside. Unlike the simple open/close button on the inside, the outside keypad had a numeric code, installed by the technicians at FH. Quistis paused for a moment, remembered the code, and then punched it into the keypad. The pad glowed green, and the door began to drop open.

"You haven't told me anything I don't know," Quistis said, turning to Mireya. "So what is your point? To rub salt in the wound? To act like you're better than me? Or do you just love to argue?"

Mireya didn't answer the question directly. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared at Quistis. The front gate opened all the way, but neither of the two women moved to step inside.

"I want you to think logically," Mireya said. "The battle is lost. We need to come up with a new plan to help the Contact Team escape from Timber, and break the eight captive SeeDs out of prison. We need to denounce the sorceress immediately and try to make amends with Galbadia. It's the only way."

Quistis railed on her with a fury. "Are you insane? We are not abandoning our client in the middle of a mission!"

"There is no mission!" Mireya said. "The mission has failed. It's over. We can do nothing for Timber except prolong a losing battle and add to the body count."

"SeeD fights for justice," Quistis said. "Timber is fighting a worthy battle, and I aim to help them in that fight."

Mireya scoffed. "SeeD fights _for itself_. We don't owe any loyalty to the people of Timber, or the Galbadians, or anyone else for that matter. We owe loyalty to ourselves and our school. And you're asking us to die for some misbegotten notion of 'justice?' Don't be ridiculous."

Nida slowly began walking up the ramp and into Garden, but he paused when he saw that the two girls were not coming with. He looked up the ramp, into the school, then down to the pair.

"You are a coward!" Quistis said, stepping forward in her anger. "You will obey my orders, regardless of whether or not you think the battle is justified."

"Don't call me a coward!" Mireya said. Her hand reached for the handle of her sword, gripping it tightly. "I am merely trying to fix your mistakes!"

"Um… guys?" Nida said, pointing at the open door.

"My mistakes?!" Quistis yelled.

"Yes!" Mireya shouted. "This whole operation has been madness from the start. You've let your own sentimentality and weakness drive us into a corner, and you refuse to admit that your failures are going to _cost SeeDs their lives_!"

"Quistis?" Nida said, growing worried. "Mireya?"

"We are fighting for a better future!" Quistis said. "We are holding ourselves to a higher standard! We will not abandon the weak to be oppressed by the strong."

"That's just_ talk_," Mireya said. "Stupid, ignorant, _dreams_. Without the strength to back it up, you truly are wishing for the impossible. SeeD cannot carve out a utopia by suddenly deciding to pick a fight with the largest military in the world! Admit that you've taken on a task bigger than yourself, get our people out of Timber, and let's go home! Or else step down as Commander and let someone else with more sense take over!"

"Someone like you?" Quistis asked.

"Yes," Mireya said. "If that's what it takes."

"GUYS!" Nida shouted, finally bringing the argument to a stop.

Both women turned to Nida, who was standing on the metal ramp leading into Garden. When he had their attention, he pointed to the open entrance. There, along the edge of the ramp, a small crowd of SeeDs, cadets, and underclassmen had gathered to watch the debate. Quistis blushed.

(Oh no…)

"I… I…" she stammered, looking at the crowd, at Nida, at Mireya. Mireya lowered her voice, but didn't let the argument end there.

"You've overstepped your bounds," Mireya said. "You accepted a foolish mission and you refuse to admit it. I understand what you were trying to accomplish, but you have taken on too much, too quickly, and now we all will suffer the consequences. I told you before that I desire to be perfect. But the pursuit of that goal is a _process_, one that must be taken carefully and deliberately. You cannot simply jump to the final conclusion and expect everything to work out. I, too, desire a better future. But there are many things that must happen between now and then before such a dream can be realized. You've allowed your idealism to cloud your judgment, and that is your mistake."

Without another word, Mireya turned away and headed up the ramp. Quistis watched her go, seething inside, a thousand furious retorts bubbling in her mind.

(No… I'll only make the situation worse if I say something to her now.)

Mireya reached the top of the ramp. The students broke apart to let her pass through, then stared awkwardly at Quistis. She sighed and gathered her thoughts, calming herself down.

(I am still SeeD Commander, regardless of what Mireya thinks.)

"Begin preparations for battle," Quistis said to the crowd at the top of the ramp. "And await my next order."

Though the students were confused, years of discipline made them respond instantly, without question. They broke apart, disappearing into Garden to prepare for yet another battle. Quistis turned to Nida.

"Go back to the bridge," Quistis said. "Make a course for Timber."

"Roger," Nida said. He nodded and started up the ramp. He took a couple steps, then paused, and turned back to Quistis.

"… Commander?" Nida said.

"Yes?"

"I… I just want you to know, I'm totally on your side," he said. "I wanna fight for Timber. And I don't think this was all a big mistake."

Quistis sighed, and nodded. "Thank you."

Nida smiled weakly, then raced up the ramp and into the Garden. Quistis followed at a walk, trying to recover her emotions and calm herself down.

(So much for being perfect...)


	19. Chapter 19: Outta Here

_**Chapter 19**_

_**Outta Here**_

(Selphie)

"Okay, Gottie!" Selphie said, her bare feet dangling off end of the bed. "It's your turn!"

The bed was fluffy and pink. She idly gripped handfuls of the disheveled sheets, twisting them into knots and clumps. On either side of her sat two Galbadian soldiers. The soldiers had removed their helmet, gloves, and uniform shirts, stripping down to their steel-gray military undershirts and pants. Their boots—along with Selphie's—had been kicked into a corner next to the nightstand. The guards' weapons and equipment rested in that corner as well, forgotten by the group.

Private Gotland leapt to his feet, striking a dramatic pose. "I'll show ya'll how it's done!"

Gotland was a little on the pudgy side, considering he was a soldier. His face was puffy and splashed with patches of pink and red. His hair was thinning, and matted to his head after being in his helmet for hours. His silly appearance was made even sillier by the fact that he was mostly naked, exposing his flabby legs and pasty arms.

The two other guards scoffed at him, muttering jokes about his intelligence—or lack thereof. Private Gotland pretended not to hear his comrades and proudly stomped over to the nightstand, where his helmet had been upturned and filled with tiny scraps of paper. He reached into the helmet, turning his face away, and randomly grabbed one of the scraps.

"No peeking!" he said to the others.

"We're not peeking!" Selphie said. She covered her eyes with both hands. "Look! See? Not peeking."

Private Gotland nodded, then unfolded the scrap of paper in his hand. He read what was written on it, sighed loudly, and then tossed the paper into the trashcan next to the nightstand.

"Man, I always get the hard ones," he muttered.

"No complaining, Gotland!" Private Malgo said. He sat to Selphie's right, his helmet on the floor at his feet, revealing his short blonde hair and matching goatee. He was more toned and athletic than Gotland, but he was covered with blonde hair on his arms and legs, making Selphie think of a big, yellow bear every time she saw him. Malgo criticized Gotland relentlessly, but Selphie thought they were both equally goofy, and that neither of them had the right to pick on anyone.

Gotland shuffled over to the foot of the bed, where they had cleared out a wide, open space between the bed and the pastel pink wall. He rubbed his face, staring into the distance and thinking.

"Time starts…" Selphie said, holding Gotland's wristwatch in one hand. She pushed the button, making the watch beep. "NOW!" The numbers on the face of the watch began to move, counting off the seconds.

Private Gotland got into character, relaxing his facial features and limbering up his body by hopping around and shaking his arms and legs loose. Then he turned to the side and made broad swimming gestures with both hands, parting the air in front of him and bringing both arms backwards in wide, sweeping arcs.

"It's a fish!" Private Malgo said. "It's definitely a fish!"

"Swimmer?" Corporal Hasberry said, sitting at Selphie's left. "Swimming? Swim _race_?"

"Ooh, ooh!" Selphie said, bouncing up and down and making the whole bed shake. "You're in the ocean! You're a shipwreck survivor!"

Gotland furiously—and wordlessly—paused to shake his head at the three, then continued swimming. He tugged on his ear with one hand.

"Sounds like swimming?" Hasberry asked, puzzled. He looked to the others, but got no response. "Sounds like swim?"

"Sounds like fish?" Private Malgo asked. "DISH! WISH! Uhhh… what else rhymes with fish?"

Private Gotland stopped swimming and shook his head, waving his arms to show that everyone's guesses were way off. The group was silent for a moment as Gotland changed tactics. Then he raised both hands, his fingers bent into claws and began grasping at the air, over and over.

"You're grabbing something… you're…" Hasberry said, pointing and snapping his fingers. "You're a claw! Sounds like claw!"

"Oh! Oh! I know!" Selphie said, pointing at Gotland. "You're one of those claw machines, with the stuffed animal prizes!"

"Biting? Are you biting?" Malgo said uncertainly.

Gotland gave the group a frustrated sigh and stopped, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Ten seconds, Gottie!" Selphie said, holding up his watch so he could see the numbers ticking away.

Private Gotland yelped, then frantically began swimming again, the air around him whooshing audibly as he parted his way through it.

"Argh! Not this again!" Private Malgo groaned. He slapped the mattress hard. But Selphie refused to give up.

"You're in a swimming race!" Selphie said. "You're a… a… um…"

Gotland shook his head at her. He started waggling his fingers as he swam, making his motions have a rippling appearance.

"Water is dripping off you!" Selphie said. "You're wet! You're soaking wet!"

"Are you _any_ kind of fish?" Hasberry said, completely stumped. "A wet fish? One of those monsters? A uh… a whatchamacallit?"

"Oh! A Fastitocalon!" Selphie said. "That's what you are!"

Gotland grunted, his face twisted in desperation and anger. He kept swimming and waggling his fingers, exaggerating his movements more and more with each stroke.

"DAMN IT, GOTLAND!" Corporal Hasberry yelled, punching the mattress. "WHAT ARE YOU?!"  
The watch in Selphie's hand beeped once. The three soldiers and Selphie all moaned in unison. Gotland stopped, gasping for breath, and turned to face the others.

"What in the world were you _doing_, Gotland?" Private Malgo said.

"I was an eagle!" Private Gotland yelled. He stomped on the floor. "I was _flapping_ my _wings_. And I had claws and feathers and stuff."

He waggled his fingers again. Then he repeated the grasping motion he'd made earlier. Selphie had to admit, that much at least looked somewhat like an eagle.

The other two soldiers were in stunned silence. "You were _clearly _swimming," Hasberry said. "We all thought you were swimming."

He looked to the others for confirmation. Malgo and Selphie both nodded and agreed with Hasberry.

"Yup," Selphie said. "Swimming."

"No," Gotland said. He crossed his arms over his wide chest. "I was soaring majestically. It's not my fault you guys suck at this game."

"Nu uh!" Selphie said. "You were so totally swimming! Birds flap like this," she said, waving her arms up and down like a bird. "And people swim like this." She repeated the exact motion Gotland had been doing, her arms bumping into the soldiers on either side of her. "Totally different!"

"But then… if you were an eagle, why'd you say it sounded like swimming?" Malgo said.

"What? I never said that!" Gotland said. He screwed up his face in confusion.

"You _so_ did! You tugged on your ear!" Selphie said. "That means 'sounds like.'"

"Oh…" Gotland said. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I had an itch."

Everyone groaned.

"Sit down, Gotland," Hasberry said, pointing to the corner of the bed. "Before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have. Whose turn is it now?"

Selphie consulted a piece of paper that had everyone's names listed in order on it.

"It's you, Hassie!" Selphie said. Private Gotland sat down hard on the bed, making it shake and squeak.

Corporal Hasberry stood up and stretched, his joints cracking loudly. He normally shaved himself bald, but several days without a razor left his head covered in coarse black fuzz. He neck and jawline were also in the beginnings of growing a thick beard. He could have been handsome, but his face was almost always stuck in a frown that made him look like a gargoyle.

He finished his long, luxurious stretch and went to the nightstand. He reached into the helmet that carried all the clues and pulled out a scrap of paper, unfolded it, read it, and scoffed.

"This is too easy," he said. He walked around to the foot of the bed, his scowling face twisted up into something vaguely resembling a confident smirk.

"Your time starts…" Selphie said, holding out the watch in front of her. "… Now!" She pushed the start button on the watch.

In a flash, Corporal Hasberry curled into a ball, tucking his arms and legs tight against his body. His head was between his knees, his arms wrapped around his thighs and shins. His hands were clenched into fists.

"You're a ball!" Gotland shouted.

"You're a hedgehog!" Selphie yelled.

"You're one of those bugs that curls up when it's scared!" Malgo said.

Ignoring their comments, Hasberry slowly began to stand up, extending his arms straight out to the side. His fingers reached out, stretching to their full length. Then his fingers went limp, and appeared to be drifting in an imaginary breeze.

"You're exploding!" Malgo said. "A slow motion explosion!"

"You're a bomb!" Gotland yelled.

"OH!" Selphie said. She nearly fell off of the bed she jumped so hard. "YOU'RE A TREE!"

Hasberry pointed at her. "Selphie's got it!"

Malgo and Gotland both cursed under their breaths.

"WHOO-HOO!" Selphie said, raising her arms and bouncing excitedly on the bed.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom flew open, striking Corporal Hasberry hard on the back and sending him flying to the ground. He collapsed in a heap at Selphie's feet. The other two soldiers gasped and stood up, putting their hands to their sides and thrusting their chests out. Hasberry scrambled upright and joined the other two guards, forming a row of three between Selphie and the new arrival.

A Galbadian officer, unmistakable in his bright red uniform, was standing in the open doorway. His face was covered by a silver helmet, but his mouth was visible and scowling.

"What the HELL is going on in here?" the officer yelled. "I can hear you downstairs! What's all this yelling? Why aren't you three in uniform?"

"We're playin' charades!" Selphie said. She peered through the narrow window between Gotland and Malgo. "You want in?"

The officer growled at her, but didn't comment. Instead, he turned to the three guards—who hadn't moved an inch since they had gotten into the position of attention.

"Gotland! Malgo! Hasberry!" the officer yelled. "Get back into your uniforms and grab your weapons! You are guarding a prisoner, not babysitting a toddler!"

(I'm not a toddler!)

"Hey!" Selphie said, glaring at the officer. He paid no attention to her.

At the officer's command, the three soldiers rushed around the room, collecting the bits of their uniforms from the various locations where they'd been tossed. Hastily, they pulled on their gloves and boots and shirts. Gotland dumped all the pieces of paper out of his helmet and put it on his head, the silver visor obscuring his face. Selphie looked at all the discarded clues on the fuzzy pink floor and sighed, saddened that the game was now officially over.

(Things are gonna get boring again…)

When all three guards were back in uniform, they scrambled to their assigned positions, with Gotland and Malgo guarding either side of the door,and Hasberry guarding the only window, effectively cutting off all possible escape routes.

"No pay for any of you this month!" the officer yelled, sweeping his finger across the room. "And if I hear a sound from this room again, then no pay next month either!"

The three soldiers grumbled, but offered no further resistance.

The officer waited in the doorway, glaring at the soldiers, then at Selphie, allowing plenty of time for someone to say something stupid. Selphie felt like arguing, not so much for the sake of defending her guards, but just for the sake of being difficult with the officer. But she didn't think of anything funny or clever to say before the officer turned around and exited the bedroom. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Selphie waited a few seconds, listening to the officer's boots stomp down the hall, then down the steps, and then finally fading beyond hearing.

"… Is he gone?" she whispered. The three guards didn't respond. Crawling on her hands and knees, Selphie crossed the fluffy pink bed and leaned over the side, collecting the scraps of paper that Gotland had dumped on the ground. She gathered them all in a single pile, careful to make sure she didn't accidentally read what any of them said.

(That would be cheating.)

"C'mon, guys," Selphie whispered. "We can play _real quiet_. It's my turn anyway."

She reached into the pile to pull out a clue, when one of the soldiers stopped her.

"No," Hasberry whispered. With his full uniform on, she could only really recognize him by his voice. "We can't. Sorry, Selphie."

Selphie pouted. "Fine…"

Frustrated, she pushed all the clues off the side of the bed, letting them float down to the floor. Then she flopped onto her back, her head resting on the numerous overstuffed pillows that formed a small mountain at the top of the bed. She stared at the blank, pink ceiling, fidgeting at the hems of her dress and chewing on her tongue.

(So… bored…)

(Everything's so pink…)

With a sigh, she realized then that she had been sealed in Caraway's mansion—as prisoners of the Galbadian government—for nearly two days at that point. It felt like two years.

Selphie didn't remember much from the night Caraway was murdered. She had memories of fire, of hitting her head, and something about wolves, but that was about it. She guessed that she must have been knocked out at some point, because her first solid memory was of waking up on the floor with a screaming headache, surrounded by guards, all pointing their guns and swords in her face. The soldiers had already taken Irvine's gun and Selphie's nunchaku and hidden them away. The soldiers demanded that the two surrender peacefully and, reluctantly, they did.

The pair were separated right after that. Selphie was brought upstairs into what she was fairly certain was Rinoa's old room, while Irvine went to some other part of the mansion. Where exactly he was sent was a mystery, and her guards all refused to tell her. She assumed that they would eventually move her into a real Galbadian prison, like D-District or somewhere similar, but whoever was in charge seemed content to leave her locked in Rinoa's room, amid all the fluffy pinkness and cutesy plush toys.

The first night, Selphie had attempted to escape. At that time, she only had one guard—Gotland—and she hit him with a sleep spell and then tried to escape through the window. But the mansion's incredible security not only kept out intruders, but also formed a very effective cell. The window frame was magnetically sealed. Even devoting all her junctions into her strength couldn't even budge it. She then tried to break the glass by hurling the small nightstand into it, but the glass barely shuddered as the heavy wooden nightstand bounced off it and clattered to the floor.

Guards outside the room heard the commotion, and assigned her two more guards—Malgo and Hasberry. She didn't bother trying to escape again, instead waiting for a better opportunity. She remembered that the sorceress had broken through a window to escape the mansion. Considering that Selphie couldn't even scratch the glass showed her just how powerful the sorceress was.

She spent the rest of her time talking with her three guards and rummaging around Rinoa's room. At first, she felt weird about invading Rinoa's privacy, but there really wasn't anything embarrassing to be found. No diaries or secret messages. Just stuffed animals and disgusting amounts of pink coloring everywhere. Selphie managed to deduce that Rinoa had left the mansion sometime in her early teens or younger, and Caraway had left the room almost untouched since then. Aside from that, she didn't learn anything new about Rinoa's past, which was a little disappointing.

Occasionally, a Galbadian officer would come into the room and interrogate her. The officers were different each time, but they always asked the same dozen or so questions, but in a random order each time, with different behaviors. Some officers yelled at her furiously and accused her of murdering the General, while others were soft and gentle, offering sympathy mercy if Selphie confessed. She treated them all the same: she smiled, answered their questions truthfully, and asked when she could go home. She knew she'd done nothing wrong, no matter how much the officers tried to blame her for the deaths that happened downstairs.

Twice a day, a guard from downstairs would bring her a tray with food. Nothing more than bread, water, and maybe some old fruit, but Selphie always scarfed it down greedily. She wasn't very hungry most days, but eating gave her something to do for a few minutes.

Three times a day she was escorted to the bathroom. Yesterday, she learned that there were no exceptions to this rule, even if Selphie threatened to pee on the floor. It was an empty threat, one that was ignored by her captors. Gotland expressed his delight when he found out that she wasn't being serious.

She stared at the ceiling, hoping to zone out into some sort of trance that would allow the hours to pass quicker, but her mind insisted on keeping close tabs on every single second that ticked by. She sighed, then pushed herself into a sitting position. She picked up one of the pillows on the bed and tossed it at Private Gotland.

"Catch!" she said.

He caught it in one hand, and then dropped it at his feet, silently.

"You're supposed to toss it back!" Selphie said.

Gotland shook his head. He put a finger to his lips. She grunted, then flopped back down on the bed. She wished she could fall asleep, but it was the middle of the day and she wasn't tired.

(Wonder where Irvine is…)

She guessed that he was being kept somewhere else in the mansion, maybe the drawing room or the library, but she had no way to know for certain. For all she knew, he could have secretly been brought to D-District Prison, strung up and tortured, like they did with Squall after the botched sorceress assassination. Worried butterflies flittered in her stomach. She chewed on her tongue again, not even aware she was doing it.

She retraced the events of the past month in her mind and realized that this was the longest they had been apart since they had first met. After teaming up with Irvine at Galbadia Garden, he'd been a constant companion and ally every day since. He was there when they tried to assassinate Sorceress Edea. He went with her to the Galbadian Missile base, stayed right by her side when they went to the future, and he even followed her back to Trabia when everything was over.

Not having him around was strange and uncomfortable. For a moment, she thought that she was just missing her friends, but then she realized that the way she felt for Irvine's absence was different than the way she felt for anyone else's. When she thought of her friends back in Balamb Garden or Trabia Garden, an aching knot arose in her chest, then went away when she thought of something else. But with Irvine, it felt like that knot never truly left, as if she was in a state of constantly missing him, even when she wasn't fully aware of it. Was it just because he'd been such a constant over the past few weeks—more so than anyone else—or was there more to it?

(I dunno…)

She decided not to dwell on her feelings. Thinking about them, thinking about Irvine, made it all much worse.

Aside from the movement of the sun through the windows, Selphie could never tell what time it was. It was daylight, sometime in the mid-afternoon, but aside from that, she couldn't guess. She was quite terrible at estimating time, so it could have been hours, or it could have been minutes after the officer broke up their game of charades when the door once again burst open. She sat up, expecting some grumpy officer coming in to interrogate her again.

But instead of another officer, Headmaster Martine strode in through the door. He wore his familiar blue trench coat, decorated with shiny gold buttons all along the seam. His blonde hair was slicked back, and an equally slick grin covered his face. Selphie's three guards stiffened to attention when he walked in. He shut the door behind him.

"YOU!" Selphie said, leaping off the bed and pointing a finger at him. "YOU did this!"

Martine looked perplexed. "… Did what?"

"You're the reason we came here in the first place!" Selphie said. "You lied to us about Rinoa!"

An expression of understanding washed over Martine's face. He smiled wider and nodded. "Ah, yes. That. Sorry, I was mistaken. Bad intelligence, you see." He bowed his head. "My sincerest apologies."

He straightened up, his smile gone from his face. "But, you should know—before you get too riled up—that I am both the reason you're here in Deling City and the reason you're specifically _here_. Here in this nice, comfortable bedroom, rather than in a dank prison cell. I'm the one who convinced Lieutenant General Vaschel not to relocate you two after you were detained. So really, a little show of gratitude would be polite."

(Psh.)

She wasn't about to thank him for holding her captive. Instead, she asked, "Why do you care? What's it to you if I'm comfortable or not?"

"Prisoners in the Galbadian justice system have a tendency to get… lost," Martine said. "They get transferred to one prison, then accidentally transferred again, then again. Or their records get misplaced, making it near impossible to track them down. I didn't want that you happen to you, so I spared you from that mess. You're welcome."

Selphie frowned and grunted. She wouldn't need to be kept out of prison in the first place if he hadn't convinced her and Irvine to come to Caraway's mansion, so when the weight of all Martine's deeds were weighed against each other, Selphie's scale read "blame" rather than "thank."

"Whaddya want?" Selphie asked, repeating the question she'd asked him on the wall of Trabia Garden.

(You know, he's still never really answered that question.)

"I want to let you go," Martine said formally. "I want to send you back home to Trabia Garden, as I promised I would. But…"

Selphie raised an eyebrow. "Buuuut?"

"But, you still haven't held up your end of the bargain," he said. "I promised to bring you here and back to Trabia safely, but only if you cooperated. Yet despite our repeated attempts to get answers from you, you still resist. If you don't work with us, then I see no reason to work with you."

(What's he talkin' about?)

"I already told ya everything," Selphie said. She crossed her arms. "Everything I know."

Martine smiled. "See, now, I know that's a lie. So, let me give you one more chance to be honest with me. What happened to the Sorceress Edea after you defeated her at G-Garden? Tell me everything."

She was angry at Martine for lying to her, and for being so smug all the time. She was bored, and angry, and frustrated. But more than anything, she was tired. Tired of answering questions. Tired of being stuck in a room, with nobody but Galbadian soldiers to amuse her. Tired of bland food and pink décor. And tired of keeping up a lie.

(And anyway, Caraway already knew this stuff, so he probably knows it too.)

She sighed, defeated. "She passed her powers to Rinoa," Selphie said. "And we took them both back to Garden with us. That's it."

Martine nodded. He raised his hands, palms up, then dropped them. "At last, the truth emerges. All this time, you've been telling me that you killed her. You killed Edea and dumped her body overboard into the ocean. But now, finally, you admit what really happened."  
Selphie shrugged. "So? What's the difference? Why d'ya care?"

"Curiosity," he said.

Martine crossed his arms behind his back, puffed out his chest, and raised his chin, making himself even taller. Selphie sat down on the edge of the bed, bracing herself for a long series of questions.

"So, my next question is this," Martine said. "Where is the Sorceress Rinoa right now?"

Selphie shrugged. "Probably at Garden. That's where she was when we left."

"And the Sorceress Edea?" Martine asked. "Ahem. Sorry. The former sorceress Edea?"

"Probably there too," Selphie said.

"Is Garden harboring any other sorceresses besides those two?" Martine asked.

(Tell him there's a million. A whole army of sorceresses.)

She ignored that little voice in her head. "No. Don't think so."

"Good," Martine said. "See how easy this is? We could have all been spared a lot of grief if you'd just been honest from the beginning."

(Yeah. Sure. Whatever.)

"How many sorceresses do you know of in the world?" Martine asked. "Don't guess. Give me an exact number. I want their names and their last known locations."

Selphie felt like a traitor—revealing all this information to Martine—but now that she'd started talking, it was easy for her to keep going. And she didn't really see any harm in it. Caraway had already told her how much he knew about what was going on. She figured that whatever Caraway knew, Martine would know as well.

"Sorceress Adel," Selphie said, counting on her fingers. "She's dead. But she was in Esthar. Then there's Sorceress Ultimecia. She's dead in the future."

"Wait… what?" Martine asked. He looked confused.

"It's a long story," Selphie said. "Wanna hear it?"

Martine shook his head. "You said she's dead, though?"

"Yup," Selphie said.

"Ignore her. Ignore all deceased sorceresses. Only the live ones matter."

She paused, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She rewound the course of her life in her head, trying to think of all the sorceresses she'd ever encountered.

(… That's all of 'em.)

"That's it," Selphie said. "Oh yeah, and that one in Timber. What's-her-face."

"Sorceress Ciel," Martine said.

"Yeah, her," Selphie said. "That's all I know."

"Selphie," Martine said sternly. "We already had a discussion about lying."

"I'm not lying!" Selphie said. "I swear!"

"So, one more time," Martine said. "When Balamb and Galbadia Gardens fought, you and your friends infiltrated G-Garden and battled the Sorceress Edea. Upon her defeat, she passed her powers to Rinoa. You then brought both women back to your Garden, and have been sheltering them ever since."

(Close enough.)

"Sounds right," Selphie said.

"So answer me this," Martine said. "Why didn't you kill Edea after she passed on her powers? She was vulnerable then. Why risk leaving her alive? Even as a regular human, she's still a threat to Garden and the world. What would you have done if she somehow regained her powers?"

(No point in lying, I guess.)

Selphie didn't think Martine would be interested in the whole story about a time-traveling sorceress who took over people's minds, so she went with the simpler truth.

"She's our Matron," Selphie said. "She raised us when we were all in an orphanage together. There's no way we could've kill her."

"And since passing on her powers," Martine said, "She has been… docile? Compliant?"

"She's the old Matron," Selphie said. She shrugged. "The one we know and love."

Martine nodded. "Yes, of course. That makes sense. The sorceress power corrupts, you see. When a woman obtains that much raw energy, she cannot help but let it overwhelm her mind. We saw it with Adel, and then with Edea. And we are seeing it now with Ciel. It is the _power_ that is evil, not the person. It makes women commit atrocities. You understand this, correct?"

Selphie screwed up her face in surprise. "What?"

"They say power corrupts," Martine said. "And what is a sorceress but power incarnate? The ability to bend the forces of the universe to suit one's whims. Such unchecked freedom would corrupt anyone. Even the kindest, sweetest person—like your Matron—can become a monster under the right circumstances."

(That wasn't her though! It was Ultimecia. Matron never did anything wrong!)

But she was tired of talking with him and she wanted him to go away. She wasn't going to lengthen their discussion by trying to correct him. What did it matter if he knew about Ultimecia or not? He seemed like a man who already had his mind made up about everything.

"I can't think of anything else I want to ask you," Martine said. He bowed his head, respectfully. "I thank you for your cooperation. As a reward, I will now honor my promise. I will return you and Kinneas back to Trabia on the next train to Dollet. From there, you'll take a ship back to your Garden, and get back to work fixing Sorceress Edea's mess. Sound reasonable?"

She felt an electric tingle rush up her spine at the mention of Irvine's name.

(He's alright!)

But she didn't want Martine to guess what she was thinking, so she scowled and said, "Fine."

"Good," Martine said. "Two pieces of friendly advice before I leave you. One, do not return to Galbadia in the near future. You are not welcome here. And two, convince Rinoa to give up her power, and then keep her and Edea under lock and key and never trust them again."

"Rinoa's not—" Selphie protested. Martine cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Maybe not now," he said. "But she will be. She has the power. And soon, she will try to use it."

(That's not true! Rinoa's not like that!)

Martine turned to Hasberry, who was still standing by the window. "Corporal. You and the others must escort Miss Tilmitt to the train station. Guards are waiting there with further instructions for you."

"Yes, Mister President," Corporal Hasberry said. "It will be done!"

(Woah, what?)

"_President_?" Selphie said. "You mean you actually got elected? Who'd vote for _you_?"

"Hm?" Martine said. "Oh, yes. You wouldn't know about that, would you? I am the new President of Galbadia. There wasn't time for a popular vote, so I technically won by default. But I assure you, I intend to have a proper vote when I run for reelection at the end of my term, but for now the country is in crisis and needs a leader. That leader is me. So if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."

He turned and left Rinoa's bedroom, his heavy footsteps thumping down the carpeted hallway and disappearing down the stairs. He left the door behind him wide open, and Selphie briefly imagined herself sprinting out into the hall and running for it. But she didn't have her boots on yet, and she wasn't likely to get far in just her bare feet. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want to leave Irvine behind, she still needed her nunchaku, and a number of other problems that cropped up in her mind.

She sighed, and decided to stay quiet and compliant.

(For now.)

Corporal Hasberry stepped away from the window.

"Come on, Selphie," he said. "We're sending you home.

"WOO!" Selphie said, pumping a fist into the air. She grabbed her boots and shoved them on her feet. She paused for a moment to look around the room, wondering if there was anything else she didn't want to leave behind. Fortunately, she and Irvine traveled light, meaning there was almost nothing she needed to take with her.

"What about my chucks?" Selphie asked.

"Your whats?" Hasberry asked.

"You know. Chucks. Nunchaku."

"Oh, right," Hasberry said. "Don't worry, they're still here. We'll bring them with us."

"You better," Selphie said. Her voice was playfully threatening, making it sound like a joke. But she was being entirely serious. If the Galbadians tried to force her out of the mansion without her weapons, her threats suddenly wouldn't be so playful anymore.

(These guys are pretty okay, but they're still Galbadians.)

The three soldiers escorted Selphie out of Rinoa's bedroom and into General Caraway's elaborate hallway. Selphie already felt significantly freer than she had a few moments ago. Just the fact that she could stare quite a distance down the long hallway made her feel less confined.

From there, they all headed for the central staircase. Privates Gotland and Malgo marched in front of her, their sabers drawn, but held loosely at their sides. Corporal Hasberry walked closely behind her. Not close enough for her to spin around and strike him with a surprise kick to the head, but close enough for him to slash her with his saber if she tried to run away. Even though the three soldiers were fairly relaxed at the moment, she wasn't likely to catch them off guard and escape.

Nevertheless, she paid close attention to her surroundings, waiting for the right location to combine with the right timing for her to make a break for it. She eyed nearby windows, wondering if she could leap out of them. She discarded that idea, figuring that all the windows were magnetically sealed like the one in Rinoa's bedroom. She looked up at the heavy chandelier that hung above the central staircase and wondered if she could knock it down with a spell and cause a significant enough distraction. She rejected that idea as well. It was too complicated, too chancy.

The soldiers brought her down the steps to the first floor. Private Malgo broke from the group and headed into a small doorway adjacent to the drawing room. He emerged a couple seconds later, carrying Irvine's shotgun and her nunchaku in a bundle under his arm. His free hand still gripped his saber, ready and drawn in case Selphie grabbed for her weapon.

"You'll get these back when we reach Dollet," he said, tilting the weapons towards her so she could get a good look at them. Selphie nodded at him.

Hasberry ordered the group to move along. Gotland opened the front door, allowing the sunlight to pour inside. He left the door open and started marching down the sidewalk towards the street. Malgo stood off to the side, angling his body to keep the confiscated weapons away from her. Selphie followed after Gotland, with Hasberry shadowing her every step. After a few seconds, Malgo came after and closed the door behind them.

The outside world was disorienting after two days of being locked in a bedroom. The sun, unfiltered by windows, seemed almost too bright. The air—even though it was tainted by the smell of car exhaust and people—felt fresh and clean. She could hear birds chirping, car horns honking, and some lady a few blocks away, swearing loudly at a passing car for nearly running her over.

Her guards didn't give her much chance to enjoy the great outdoors, as they immediately shuffled her down the long sidewalk and to the street, where two army cars were parked and waiting. Ahead on the street, she caught a glimpse of Irvine's trademark dusty-brown trench coat, black hat, and long pony tail before he was shoved rudely into the back of the lead army car. The door slammed shut and the car sped down the road.

(Irvine's okay!)

Just the sight of Irvine—alive and apparently unharmed—was enough to get Selphie energized. Instead of being led by her guards, she started leading her guards, rushing to get to the second car so that the first wouldn't get too far ahead. Gotland hurried to stay in front of her. He threw open the rear hatch and allowed Selphie inside. She jumped into the back, with Hasberry and Malgo almost jogging to keep pace with her.

The rear section of the army car was divided from the front cab and the driver by a large gray metal panel. Inside were two sideways-facing benches, wide enough to accommodate two people each—or three if they really crammed themselves in. Selphie picked a spot near the front of the car and sat down. Hasberry sat beside her. Gotland and Malgo sat across from her, then Gotland shut the hatch. Malgo set the weapons on the bench next to him, then rapped his knuckles hard on the dividing wall, signaling to the driver that the passengers were ready to depart. The car jerked and the tires squealed on the asphalt as the driver dropped the clutch and sped down the road.

There were no windows in the back of the car for Selphie to watch the passing scenery, so she decided to amuse herself with more games. Since she was no longer being held in the mansion under the tight scrutiny of permanently grumpy officers, she figured her guards would become friendly to her again.

"So… Hassie," Selphie said, turning to face him. "If you had a choice between being deaf and handcuffed to a rabid Moomba or blind and have to listen to nothing but Julia Caraway's 'Eyes on Me' for the rest of your life, which would you pick?"

"Huh?" Hasberry said. He adjusted in his seat. "What kind of weird question is that?"

"I'd pick the Moomba," Malgo said without hesitation. "I hate that stupid song. I'd rather be deaf than listen to it just _once_."

"Hey, it's not really that bad," Gotland said. "It's pretty sad when you know the words. It's about how Julia lost her—"

"I know what it's about, Gotland," Malgo said. "And it's still a dumb song. Sappy as hell."

"Well, now hold on," Hasberry said. He sat up in his chair and crossed his arms, putting serious thought into the question. "Can I take the handcuffs off the Moomba?"

"Nope," Selphie said. "You gotta stay handcuffed to it for the rest of your life."

"Why? Who says?"

"That's the rule," Selphie said.

Hasberry paused and thought some more. "Can I kill the Moomba?" he asked.

"No! Why'd you wanna kill a Moomba?" Selphie asked.

"Cause it's rabid and I'm handcuffed to it!" Hasberry said. "It'd be self-defense! No one can blame me for protecting myself."

"YOU CAN'T KILL THE MOOMBA!" Selphie said. "Now answer the question!"

"Fine," Hasberry said. He pondered for another couple of seconds, rubbing his chin with his gloved fingers. Gotland began humming the first few bars of "Eyes on Me."

"Shut up," Malgo snapped at him. Gotland sighed and stopped humming.

"For the second one," Hasberry said. "I can still hear, right? Or can I _only_ hear 'Eyes on Me?'"

"You can still hear other stuff, but the song is SUPER loud," Selphie said. "Like, people have to shout for you to hear them."

"Hmm…" Hasberry said. "… What if the Moomba dies of natural causes?"

"The Moomba is immortal!" Selphie said. She slapped the chair to emphasize her point. "An immortal, rabid Moomba. It lives as long as you do!"

"Then fine!" Hasberry said. "I uh, choose… umm… I don't like either one. They're terrible choices."

"But you _have_ to pick one," Selphie said. "It's one or the other!"

The tires on the car screeched and the cab jerked as it came to a sudden, dramatic stop. Selphie nearly flew out of her chair and into the dividing wall, but managed to catch herself in time. Even the soldiers had to brace themselves to stay upright.

"Look at that!" Hasberry said, cheerfully. "We're here! No time for questions."

"But you never answered!" Selphie said, pouting.

"I pick Eyes on Me," Private Gotland said.

"I pick the Moomba," Private Malgo said.

"And I say everybody out of the car," Corporal Hasberry said. He stood up out of his chair and unlatched the door and pushed it open.

The sounds of train brakes squealing filled the air with a long, high-pitched shriek. At the same time, another train was gathering speed as it exited the station, the chugging noise of its engine growing faster and faster.

(Trains!)

Already, Selphie was in a better mood. Hasberry jumped out of the car, followed closely by Selphie. Now that they were out of the car, he resumed his professionalism, standing off to the side with one hand on his saber and both eyes fixed on Selphie. Gotland hopped out and watched her as well. Malgo scooped up the weapons and exited last, closing the car's hatch behind him.

Selphie took a moment to look around. They were in a parking lot just outside the station. Dozens of other civilian cars filled the lot. She scanned each vehicle, her eyes finally resting on the other army car—the one that had taken Irvine—parked closer to the station entrance. She didn't see any signs of Irvine or his guards.

(They must be up ahead.)

With a nudge on her shoulder, Corporal Hasberry got Selphie moving to the front entrance gate. The gate was made of wrought iron and formed an archway above a pair of long escalators leading down into the station. The words, "DELING CITY TRAIN STATION" were written in glowing yellow letters at the peak of the arch.

Brightly colored arrows painted on the floor indicated that the right-hand escalator led down into the station and the left-hand led up into the parking lot. Additionally, the word "DOWN" was printed on the floor before the appropriate escalator, while "UP" was printed before the other. As if the fact that one escalator was visibly moving downwards wasn't obvious enough for people to figure it out without careful guidance.

(People in Deling City must be really dumb.)

Selphie gripped the rubber handrail and stepped onto the escalator, watching her feet to make sure she trip over the steps. Her guards stayed right behind her. She began walking down the steps, hoping to catch up with Irvine before he got to the train.

She hopped off at the bottom and took a couple steps forward. In front of her was a long row of waist-high turnstiles, with card scanners beside each one. Hasberry quickly stepped past her and pulled out a plastic card from one of his pockets. He swiped it through the card scanner at one of the turnstiles. A nearby light flashed green, and the turnstile clicked open. All four of them stepped through and entered the station.

Even though Deling City was the largest city in Galbadia as well as the nation's capital, its train station was not particularly large. The city of Timber actually had more trains and railways than Deling City, despite being a fraction of the size. Back at Trabia Garden, Selphie had learned that it was because Deling City was so far north it wasn't an important transportation hub, unlike cities located closer to the middle of the continent.

A row of about two dozen train platforms awaited Selphie, arranged in a long series. Most every platform was currently occupied by a train of some sort. There were a couple of fancy first-class passenger trains, with ornate paint jobs and extravagant trim along the edges. Grubby and bland freight trains waited near the end of the station. One or two cheaper passenger trains sat at platforms as well.

Selphie smiled as she gazed lovingly at all the trains. The first-class passenger trains were almost painfully awesome, their engines bright and shimmering in the light, their interiors lavishly furnished. She hoped that Martine had been cool enough to let her travel in style aboard one of those beauties, but in her heart she knew he wasn't so kind.

Midway down the station, she spied a blue Galbadian military train. It was utilitarian and had none of the amenities of the passenger trains, but had a certain charm because of its efficiency and obvious power. A cluster of soldiers were amassed around the side, loading heavy crates into one of the cars.

Hasberry brought her to a stop a short distance from the military train, then went to speak with the officer nearby. Malgo and Gotland flanked her on either side, keeping careful watch on her.

She tore her gaze from the first-class trains and looked beyond the group of soldiers. Past the stack of crates, she could see a group of guards roughly shoving Irvine towards one of the cars near the very back of the train. Just before he stepped inside, he turned his head and caught a glimpse of her. Their eyes made a brief, exciting contact. He winked and smiled, and then was pushed rudely into the car and out of sight.

When Irvine was gone, she focused her attention on Hasberry and the officer. She struggled to hear their conversation, but was too far away to make out anything. A train screeched as it pulled to a stop in the station, and another one hissed as it released a cloud of steam. Civilians filed past, and a few conductors marched by in crisp uniforms.

After a few moments, Hasberry ended his conversation with the officer and returned.

"Come along, Selphie," he said. He jerked his head towards the train.

She headed for the train, making a bee-line towards the car she'd seen Irvine enter a few moments ago. Before she got that far, Hasberry reached out and grabbed her shoulder, then turned her towards an open car beside her.

"Nope, you go in here," Hasberry said. "We're keeping you two separate for now."

Selphie grumbled, but didn't say anything aloud. She hopped up into the open car and looked around.

Inside it was dark, lit only with a single dim florescent bulb flickering in the ceiling. The inside was stacked to the top with unmarked crates, leaving only a narrow gap for Selphie and her guards to move around. It smelled of dust and wood, tickling her nose. The floor thumped hollowly with her every step.

Sitting next the crates was a metal chair. A series of heavy iron rods formed the backrest of the chair.

Before Selphie could ask what was going to happen next, Hasberry roughly grabbed her arms and tugged them behind her back. He threaded each of her arms between the rods in the back of the chair, forcing her to sit down hard. He then swiftly handcuffed her wrists before she even had a chance to fight back.

"HEY!" Selphie protested. She immediately tried to pull her arms out, but the handcuffs clanked into the iron bars, binding her to the chair. "What gives, you guys?"

"Sorry," Hasberry said. "President's orders. You're still our prisoner until we're out of Galbadia."

"Come on!" Selphie said. "I thought we were cool!"

Corporal Hasberry shook his head. "Can't do it, Selphie."

He turned around and leaned forward out of the open door. He said something to a nearby soldier that Selphie couldn't hear, then slid the large bay door shut, sealing them all inside. Selphie looked around and realized, with great frustration, that there weren't any windows in the car.

(Sacrilege!)

"What, we're going with her?" Gotland asked. He whined like a disappointed teenager.

"Not enough soldiers to spare," Hasberry said. "Everyone's either down in Timber or hunting sorceresses somewhere."

"Wait," Selphie said. "You're already in Timber? The attacks started?"

Hasberry looked at her, his face obscured by his helmet. He didn't answer her questions, or say anything else on the subject.

"Aw, man," Gotland said. He kicked a nearby crate. "I was gonna go to the shopping center today. I hate the friggin army."

"Damn it, Gotland, quit whining," Malgo said. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his sweaty blond hair. He scratched at his goatee. "I had plans today too. Man up, already."

Gotland pulled off his helmet and set it down on a crate. He sneered at Malgo, then started humming "Eyes on Me" again.

"Gotland, I swear," Malgo said. "I will beat you nonstop all the way from here to Dollet. Cut. It. Out."

"Shut up, both of you," Hasberry said.

The soldiers glared at each other for a few tense moments, then Gotland shrugged his shoulders petulantly and then sat down on the floor. Malgo looked away, then leaned against a stack of crates and pulled off his gloves and set them under his helmet.

The train whistled loudly, then jerked into motion. The train swayed gently from side to side as it gathered speed, heading out of the station and towards the fields outside of Deling City.

Now that the group was alone again, Selphie once more figured that she could get some favors from her guards. She noisily rattled her handcuffs against the bars of her chair.

"So you guys wanna take these off me?" Selphie asked.

None of the soldiers answered her. Gotland closed his eyes and was trying to sleep. Malgo was picking at his nails. Hasberry crossed his arms and stared intently around the car, as if searching it for hidden cameras.

"You can put me back in handcuffs before we get to Dollet," Selphie said. "No one will know!"

"No, Selphie," Hasberry said. "Now hush. It's a long ride to Dollet."

(Drat.)

Whatever kinship she'd manage to create between herself and her captors obviously wasn't worth as much as she'd originally thought. She frowned and stared at Hasberry, the only one of the three who hadn't removed his helmet. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she couldn't see them through his silver visor.

(Fine then. If they don't want to be friends, then we won't be friends.)

The train got clear of the city and picked up even more speed as it chugged along towards its destination. The rail ties passed beneath them and produced a steady thumping, like a clock, or a heartbeat.

Selphie sat in the chair, unhappy at the prospect of a long train ride for the first time in her life. Theoretically, she might be able to tolerate being handcuffed to a chair for the whole trip, if she at least had a window to gaze out of. Watching the world go by was half—or maybe as much as seventy-five percent—of the fun of being on a train. If she couldn't do that, then what was the point?

(Maybe I can open the door?)

Selphie planted her boots down and began sliding the chair over to the freight door. The metal legs of her chair shrieked along the floor with every push. Hasberry turned his head and glared at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Gettin'… some… air," Selphie said, between bursts.

He sighed and grabbed the back of her chair, holding her in place.

"No, Selphie," he said, bored. "Come on, now. Be good."

(Double drat.)

She relaxed in her chair and allowed Hasberry to drag her back into place. He pushed her chair against a crate and moved between her and the door. He sat down and finally decided to take off his helmet and set it in his lap.

She squirmed in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but with her hands awkwardly pinned behind her back, it was a futile endeavor. Already her shoulders were beginning to ache. Tiny pins and needles were poking in her hands. She doubted that she'd be able to sit in that position all the way to Dollet without going crazy.

She sighed and watched Gotland and Hasberry, both of whom had closed their eyes. She wondered if there was any point in trying to escape. After all, they were taking her back to Trabia, so why fight the Galbadians if they were helping her? Granted, it was an uncomfortable way to travel, but at least they were letting her go.

But then she thought about Rinoa, and Garden, and the others. Martine had been lying when he said that Rinoa was the Timber sorceress, but Caraway had told the truth when he said that Garden had joined in the fight against Galbadia. She and Irvine had proven that when they went online in Caraway's mansion. So either way, Rinoa was still part of the fight in Timber, and that meant she was in danger. Furthermore, Hasberry had let it slip that most of the army was already in Timber—or at least on their way there.

(And I'm stuck here on a train.)

All at once, she decided she wasn't going back to Trabia. Not until the whole mess with Timber, Garden, and Galbadia was sorted out. There was no way she was going to run off and hide in the far corner of the world while her friends fought the Galbadians.

(I wanna help!)

Selphie began looking around the train. She noticed that, in addition to the numerous crates, there were also miscellaneous items around, like spare tires and cardboard cylinders with mysterious contents. There was a slight chance that there might be something useful for her in one of those crates, but she doubted it would be worth the effort to tear them all open to find out.

Her eyes fell on Irvine's shotgun and her nunchaku, placed tantalizingly out of reach on a crate behind Malgo. Unfortunately, he was still standing up and alert. He was distracted by the effort of picking at his fingernails, but not distracted enough for Selphie to get to the weapons without him noticing.

(Triple drat.)

But the fact that both Gotland and Hasberry were napping gave her an idea. If she could take out Malgo silently, then she would stand a decent chance of making it to her weapons. How she would cross to the other side of the train car without making too much noise with her chair was a problem she hadn't solved yet, but she felt confident that she would figure something out.

She stared at Malgo's blond head in the darkness, and focused the energy needed for a simple sleep spell. She had no idea why the Galbadians didn't expect her—a SeeD—to use magic. Maybe they thought that SeeDs couldn't use magic when their hands were tied.

(Who knows?)

In any case, their ignorance was her gain. It was a little awkward forming the spell without the help of her nunchaku, but she managed easily enough. Soon she had a small white orb floating above her face, ready to send Malgo into the land of dreams.

There was a loud bang from the back of the train. Gotland and Hasberry snapped awake, and Malgo turned to look. Selphie blinked, allowing the spell to vanish before anyone could see what she was up to.

The soldiers all waited, their eyes fixed on the back end of the train. Another bang followed, then another and another.

"Gotland…" Hasberry said. "Go check it out."

"Why me?" Gotland whined. "I just got comfortable."

"Do it," Hasberry said.

Grumbling, Gotland worked his way to his feet, grabbed his saber, and headed to the back of the car. He opened the door that connected Selphie's car with the one behind it, and stepped inside the connecting hallway, then closed the door behind him.

(Well, one down, two to go.)

"What do you think it was?" Malgo said.

Hasberry shrugged and closed his eyes. "Dunno. Probably nothing. These old army trains like to make a racket for no reason."

Malgo returned his attention to his nails, and Hasberry relaxed—obviously still awake, but not paying full attention.

(Now or never.)

Selphie focused again, bringing up the sleep spell once more. The second time around it was easier to summon, but she still would have rather had her nunchaku to help her focus and form the spell. In a few seconds, the white ball hovered before her eyes. She nodded her head forward, sending it floating quickly into Malgo's chest. The white ball burst apart and sucked into his nose like smoke. He made a single, gasping choke, then went limp. His body bent backwards against the crate, then slid down to the floor with a thump.

Selphie looked at Hasberry. He hadn't opened his eyes.

(Luckyyyyyy.)

Since Hasberry was already so intent on sleeping, Selphie had no problem giving him a hand in that matter. She called up another sleep spell, nudged it towards him, and watched him slump over and fall on his side.

Now both her guards were magically put to sleep, she could move around and make as much noise as she wanted. Only a strong physical blow to wake either of them before the spell ran out of juice in a few minutes.

Eagerly, she shuffled her chair over to the crate that had her weapon, the legs screeching on the floor with each push. She spun around, and stood up as much as she could before her arms caught on the top of the backrest, but she still couldn't reach high enough to get to the top of the crate. She sat back down and contemplated her options.

(The keys!)

Since Hasberry had been the one to lock her up, it stood to reason that he also had the keys for the handcuffs. She noisily shuffled over to the corporal. He was snoring gently, his mouth open and drooling on the floor.

It was hard to see in the dim light, but she thought she saw a dim metal circle clipped to his beltline. She hoped it was the keys.

She kicked off one of her boots, exposing her bare foot. She reached out and used her big toe to pinch the ring. It jingled a little as she lifted up, and she felt a set of keys brush against her toes.

(Success!)

She pulled harder, but the keys would not unclip from Hasberry's belt. She furrowed her brow, stuck out her tongue, and pulled harder. She managed to tug Hasberry's pants down a little, exposing his dull gray military undershorts, but the keys remained stubbornly attached to his belt loop.

"ARGH!" Selphie said.

From near the back of the train came more loud bangs. Gotland had been gone awhile now—too long for there to be nothing amiss. Selphie wondered if Irvine was in trouble, then redoubled her efforts with the keys.

"C'mon…" Selphie said to herself.

She bent forward to get a better look. The clasp that held the ring to the belt loop was just a simple latch. She kicked off her other boot and used the toes of her one foot to hold the ring steady while she used her big toe on her other foot to push open the latch. It was tricky, working with her feet. Her toes felt clumsy and too big for the job, but she managed to lever a toenail into the latch and pop it open. She tugged with her other foot and felt the key ring come free of Hasberry's pants. "Haha!" Selphie shouted in triumph. A series of bangs from the back of the train reminded her that she needed to hurry.

She bent forward as far as her handcuffs would allow and brought her foot to her face, picking the key ring up with her teeth. She set her feet on the floor and straightened in her chair.

(Good thing I'm bendy.)

(… Now what?)

She had the keys in her mouth, but her arms were fastened behind her back. She tried to bring her arms up close to her face, but no matter how she contorted her body, angled her neck, or bent her arms, she couldn't even come close to getting the keys in her hands.

(Maybe I can drop the keys into my hands?)

She relaxed in her chair and turned her head over her shoulder as far as it would go, and spread her fingers open wide. The keys dangled from her teeth. Hoping for the best, she opened her jaw and let the keys drop. There was a clang as the keys bounced off the backrest of her chair, then another clang as they hit the floor. The keys never even touched her hands on the way down.

"ARGH!" Selphie shouted. Frustrated, she shuffled her chair around, found the key ring, picked it up with her foot, brought her foot to her mouth, turned her head, and held the key ring above her splayed fingers once more.

(Let's try this again.)

This time, she stretched her neck to the point of causing her shoulders to cramp, pushing on the floor with both feet to force her body back even further. When she opened her mouth the second time, the keys fell straight down. The ring barely caught on the last knuckle of her pinky finger. She clamped down on the keys, clenching them in one triumphant fist.

"YES!" she said.

Blindly, she began fumbling around with the keys. There were nearly a dozen keys on the ring, and being handcuffed and unable to see what she was doing, she found it nearly impossible to work the keys into the keyhole. She closed her eyes and focused on her fingers, trying not to drop the keys on the floor a second time.

After a few minutes of working, the sixth key he tried popped open the lock. She twisted her wrist free of its shackle and leapt to her feet, her arm and leg muscles tingling in pleasure at their newfound freedom.

"WHOO HOO!" she shouted into the train car, her voice echoing off the crates.

The handcuffs still dangled from her other wrist. She found the proper key again, and put it into the second lock, and turned. The handcuffs fell off her wrist and dropped to the floor.

A few paces away, Private Malgo began to stir, the effects of the sleep wearing off. Muttering and moaning, he lifted his head up and stared, bleary-eyed, at Selphie.

"Whas…. Whas goin on?" he asked.

"Bad dream," Selphie said. "Good night, Mal!"

"Night, Selphie," Malgo said.

Selphie popped him with another sleep spell—finding it much easier to form and focus the spell with her hands free—and the army private slipped back into unconsciousness. Then she put her hands on her hips, considering what to do with the two dozing men on the floor. The sleep spell had a very limited and unpredictable duration, and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to wake up and sneak up on her from behind while she was off checking on Irvine.

But at the same time, even though Malgo and Hasberry were G-Soldiers, Selphie had come to enjoy their company too much to just outright kill them in their sleep. She shuddered at the thought of such a coldblooded murder.

So she decided on a compromise.

She stepped up to the freight door and pulled it open, allowing a rush of air to enter the car and tug at her hair and her dress. She locked the door in place so it wouldn't close on her, then turned to the two sleeping guards. She picked up the Hasberry and dragged him by his armpits to the edge of the train. She fumbled to get him into an upright position, his limp body threatening to fall back to the floor. When she had him upright, she brought him to the door and pushed him out into space. He pitched headfirst into the rushing scenery and was gone.

The train, she assumed, wasn't traveling fast enough to kill him, so this was probably the most humane solution.

(At least, I think so…)

She repeated the process with Private Malgo, dragging him to the edge and propping him up.

"Sorry, Mal," she said, before hurling him off the train to join his corporal.

Selphie brushed off her hands dramatically, even though neither soldier had been particularly dirty. She stared out into the desert air and blinked in the sunlight, finally able to enjoy the full experience of being on a train. She breathed in the hot, dry air and watched the world go by.

(Wait…)

(Wait!)

(WAIT!)

"DESERT?!" she yelled out of the train.

There was a large and infamous desert on the Galbadian continent, but it was to the southwest of Deling City, far, far from Dollet. In fact, it was in the opposite direction entirely. Her brain worked furiously. At first she denied the evidence of her eyes, wondering if she was perhaps imagining the desert. She rubbed her eyes and looked again.

(Nope. The desert's real.)

Then she checked her memory, to see if maybe there was a desert between Deling City and Dollet. But no, every map she'd ever seen, every class she'd ever taken, insisted that there was only one desert on the whole continent, and it was located well in the southwest.

(But… why?)

There were only two things in the desert: the Galbadian Missile Base, and D-District Prison. And Selphie had long ago made sure that the Missile Base was nothing more than a crater. That left only one option.

(Martine's sending us to D-District!)

"THAT PUNK!" Selphie shouted.

The door connecting her car to the one behind it burst open. Selphie spun around, expecting to see Gotland finally coming back from his reconnaissance trip. But to her surprise and relief, it wasn't Gotland or any other G-Soldier. Instead she saw Irvine. He looked a little flustered and rushed, but he seemed unharmed.

"SELPHIE!" he said. "I'm here to… save… you…"

He looked around and saw no immediate threats to her person.

"Hiya," Selphie said. She waved cheerfully and smiled.

Irvine tipped his head and grinned. "Howdy. So I guess you noticed it too, I reckon?"

Selphie frowned. "Noticed what?"

"The changeover," Irvine said. "I've been back and forth between Deling City and G-Garden enough to notice when the train missed the junction to go east. I could feel it, you know? So I knew they weren't taking us to Dollet, and I decided to bust out."

"Oh," Selphie said. "I didn't know that. I just didn't like being handcuffed."

Irvine smirked. "I'll remember that for the future."

(Huh?)

Irvine shook his head. "Never mind. So what's the plan?"

"Let's go to Timber!" Selphie said. "We gotta help Rinoa and the others."

Irvine nodded. "Good idea. I always wanted to be a part of the cavalry. Rushing in at the end to save the day. Guess now's my chance."

"Alright!" Selphie said, pumping one fist into the air. She grabbed her nunchaku from the crate and Irvine grabbed his shotgun. Together they headed towards the front of the train.

(Hold on, everyone! We're comin' to help!)


	20. Chapter 20: Run From Her

_**Chapter 20**_

_**Run From Her**_

(Zell)

Together they stood on the roof of the TV station, all the SeeDs and the remaining two members of Forest Wolf. To the north, a wall of blue-uniformed soldiers blocked off streets and formed barricades. To the west, supply trucks, long-range artillery, and armored cars rumbled down the roads to various staging areas. South had a brigade of Galbadia's finest fighting robots, bipedal, humanoid machines equipped with rail guns and missiles. To the east, trains pulled into the Timber station, carrying more supplies, more soldiers, more robots.

(We're surrounded.)

"The mission is done," Xu said, speaking to everyone at once. "Zell, get in contact with Garden. Call in the retreat. We're leaving."

Zell nodded to her and reached into his pocket to pull out the gray radio.

"You can't!" Tavin said, his voice cracking. He jumped forward and grabbed Xu's elbow, roughly pulling at her arm to make her face him. She scowled at him and tugged her arm free of his grasp. "You can't leave!"

Xu shook her head, disappointment mixed with an edge of anger coloring her voice as she said, "You didn't deserve the time we already gave you. And now you ask us for more? We're not idiots, nor are we your cannon fodder."

Riel stepped forward, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms. Still, despite his best efforts, Zell thought the youth looked rather silly, like a child wearing oversized adult's clothes.

"It's a long way from Deling City," Riel said. "Give Ciel time to come back."

Xu spun to face him, her anger rising. She spoke her mind regardless of the consequences. She was obviously well beyond caring what Forest Wolf—or anyone else—thought of her.

"She isn't supposed to be in Deling City at all!" Xu yelled. "We let her leave the TV Station because we believed she was off to retrieve the Timber President and sign our contract. We did not give her permission to cross the continent and assassinate General Caraway! This entire operation has been a catastrophe from the start and SeeD is withdrawing now before we're all killed by your stupidity. Zell, call it in!"

Zell, momentarily caught up in intensity of the conversation, jerked with surprise at the mention of his name, and at Xu's sharp, commanding voice. Unlike Riel, Xu's tone instantly demanded respect and obedience. The radio was in Zell's hand, waiting. He switched it on.

"Zell… don't," Tavin said, his voice soft and defeated. "You can't leave…"

(Feel kinda bad…)

Zell shrugged at him. "Sorry, man." He brought the radio to his mouth and depressed the TALK button. He spoke the code phrase that would end the mission. "The curtains are closed. The show is over."

He released the button. It was done. The operation in SeeD was now officially over, the order for retreat called in to Garden. There was nothing left for the Contact Team to do except wait for instructions from Garden for a rendezvous point and time.

To be honest, Zell was relieved. After the mission's almost flawless beginning, things had slowly been descending into madness, starting with all the drama concerning the Timber President, then the arguments with Ciel and Forest Wolf, and then finally ending with Ciel crossing the continent to Deling City in the course of a single night and assassinating General Caraway. Everything had gone so wrong, and Zell was glad to be on track to leaving this mess behind him.

His greatest fear now was that they wouldn't be able to get out of the city with all the soldiers around. His eyes scanned the horizon. Everywhere he looked, he saw nothing but Galbadian troops and ordinance, clogging every street, train track, and walkway. They weren't advancing on the TV Station—not yet, anyway—but it would only be a matter of time before the order was given, and then the dam would break and the TV station and the five teenagers currently defending it would be overwhelmed by the might of the G-Army.

But Zell wasn't beyond compassion for the members of Forest Wolf. In his mind, he saw no reason why they shouldn't be included in the retreat as well. Hopefully, if everything went off without any problems, the five of them would be able to escape before the Galbadian noose closed around their necks, and the G-Army would storm the TV Station only to find it completely abandoned. SeeD and Forest Wolf, once well clear of the city, could then regroup and figure out their plan from there.

(Seems like a good idea to me.)

But while he was willing to save the members of Forest Wolf, he was still furious at them. At Ciel particularly, but Riel and Tavin had gotten on his nerves as well, because they constantly defended and made excuses for the sorceress. They had cast their lot with Ciel and all of her mistakes and blunders were theirs to share as a group.

The effects of the Caraway's death had been almost instantaneous. The night of the assassination, word spread on the radio along all the Galbadian channels announcing the death of the General. Fortunately, Xu had been awake on watch duty that night, up on the roof and listening to the radio stations to hear any news. She was the first to alert the others of what transpired in Deling City.

There was momentary confusion in Galbadia, but Lieutenant General Vaschel had been quick to respond. Once it was confirmed that the Timber Sorceress Ciel was the one who had assassinated Caraway, he called out an order for all G-Army personnel stationed in Timber to attack the TV Station, hoping to catch Forest Wolf with their guard down and their sorceress away.

The attack might have worked, if Xu hadn't been so quick on her feet. Once the news of Caraway's death reached her ears, she roused the SeeDs and the rest of Forest Wolf and brought them to the roof. As Lieutenant General Vaschel's counterattack order was being carried out, Xu directed a simultaneous magic strike from all three SeeDs, as well as a rifle attack from the two members of Forest Wolf. The combined magic of the three SeeDs, plus the noise and commotion of the guns, confused the enemy lines. The G-Army withdrew their attack, fearing that there was either a second sorceress still at the TV Station, or that the sorceress spotted in Deling City was an imposter.

Whatever the case, the G-Army decided not to risk an attack and pulled away to regroup. This bought the SeeDs some more time. Xu then reported the death of General Caraway on the radio, to ensure that Garden got the news. She didn't mention the attack on the TV Station, or anything else happening in Timber. At that time, she was still operating under the assumption that the mission was ongoing and radio secrecy was still to be maintained.

The SeeDs spent the rest of that night and the next day waiting for a response from Garden. Obviously, the death of the General marked a huge shift in tactics, and Xu was wary about proceeding until she received orders from Garden. But nothing came. Not even a "standby" order. If it were up to Xu, she would have withdrawn from Timber at that moment, while the G-Army was still off balance. Ciel's gross abuse of SeeD's confidence proved that she could not be trusted as a client, and Xu—as well as Dax and Zell—were eager to quit the mission entirely.

But Xu took the extended silence from Garden to mean that they were recalculating the mission, perhaps drawing up a new plan in the wake of Caraway's death. If SeeD was still planning on continuing the operation, Xu didn't want to call it off and retreat.

The day passed, as well as the next night, with no word from Garden or any sign of Ciel. During the night, reinforcements from Galbadia began arriving in Timber and the sun rose to find the streets cluttered with soldiers, robots, trucks, and artillery. Now, as they all stood on the roof examining the situation, it was beginning to look like everyone's last chance of escaping the city unnoticed was slipping away, if it hadn't already passed.

(I hope we're not too late…)

Zell held the radio in his hand, waiting for a response. He checked his fingers to make sure he wasn't accidentally holding down the TALK button and preventing Garden from making a connection. He wasn't. After a few more minutes, he looked at Xu, shrugged in confusion, and brought the radio back to his mouth.

"The curtains are closed," he said again, more clearly this time. "The show is over."

No response.

"Is it on?" Dax asked.

(I'm not stupid.)

Zell frowned at him, insulted. Still, he checked the power button and saw that, yes, the radio was on. He fidgeted with the dials, increasing the volume and double-checking to ensure that he was on the right frequency. A steady hiss of static, occasionally broken by bits of garbled nonsense spit onto the radio waves by members of SeeD and others, told him that he was on the right channel and everything about the radio was functioning properly.

"The radio's fine," Zell said. "SeeD's not responding though. Wonder why?"

"Damn it," Xu muttered. She marched over to Zell and snatched the radio out of his hand. He felt a little embarrassed, as if he'd done something wrong. Xu brought the radio to her mouth. "This is Xu. Is anyone listening?"

Nothing but static and nonsense replied to her question.

"Quistis, Nida, Headmaster," Xu said. "Anyone?"

Even breaking radio protocol did not get a response from Garden. She grunted in frustration and handed the hissing radio back to Zell. He took it and looked down at it, dumbly.

(Why aren't you working?)

"So what's this mean?" Zell asked.

"It means we're on our own," Xu said. "We'll have to make our own escape." She turned and faced the two members of Forest Wolf. Her anger was cold and controlled, but was still visible in her face. "How did Ciel get out of the city without being detected? You have to know how she did it. Is there a hidden passage somewhere under the TV Station?"

Tavin and Riel exchanged a glance. Riel spoke first, "We're not leaving."

Xu didn't hesitate. "If you want to stay here and die, that's your decision. But SeeD is withdrawing. Now tell us how to get out of here."

"Why?" Riel said. He puffed out his chest more. "We stand a better chance of surviving if you're here to help us fight. So what's in it for us? Why should we help people who are, quite literally, running away from battle?"

"You stand _no_ chance of surviving," Xu said. "With or without our help. When Galbadia finishes staging their troops and making their preparations, they're going to come down on this TV Station like a storm and nothing will be left but ashes. Right now they think there's a sorceress hiding in here, and they're going to attack as if there is. They will unload with everything they have to make sure the sorceress is defeated. For your sake as well as ours, we have to leave the TV Station before then."

"Ciel is coming back," Riel said, refusing to budge. "She's coming back _here_. To the TV Station. And we're not going anywhere until she does."

"Your sister is probably outside the city somewhere, waiting for you to escape," Xu said. "She probably thinks you're an idiot for having waited this long already."

"No," Riel said. "She wouldn't give up on the TV Station until there's nothing left here but a crater. She's coming back here, I know it. Call it a twin's intuition."

Xu snorted. "You're intuition's going to kill us all," she said.

"Then we'll die as martyrs," Riel said proudly. "As heroes of the Timber rebellion."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Dax said. He rolled his eyes so hard Zell could almost hear them spinning in his skull.

"We're not leaving," Tavin said, trying his best to look brave—and failing. "Forest Wolf doesn't run!"

Xu considered the pair for a long moment, her eyes boring holes into the two teenagers as her mind spun with possibilities. She clenched her teeth, then said, "Fine. We'll make our stand here, on the roof. I've scouted out the whole building, and this is the only place that we stand a chance of defending. From here, we can barricade the roof door and try to hold them off as long as we can."

"What if they have paratroopers?" Zell asked. He hadn't seen any of the flying soldiers in the staging areas around town, but that didn't meant they weren't there.

"Then it's going to be a real short last stand," Xu said.

Zell gulped.

"You can't be serious," Dax said, rushing up to Xu. "Look, we can still just leave. We're wearing civilian clothes. No one's seen who we are. We can slip out the back and hide in a bar or in someone's basement or something. We don't have to die with the dumbass brigade."

Xu glared at him. "Haven't you noticed? All the buildings around us have been evacuated of civilians, probably days ago. Everywhere we could possibly hide has been emptied out. Galbadia has enough troops lined up to do sweeps of all the houses and buildings between them and us, while attacking the TV Station at the same time. Anyone they find will be arrested, if not shot on sight. We can't just walk out of here. It's too late for that."

Dax took a step back. He had no response.

"Begin preparations for battle," Xu said. "Every weapon we have should be brought up to the roof. Anything that can be used as a barricade for the door or as defensive walls should be brought up as well. We don't have much time, so we need to move fast."

Without waiting for an answer, Xu marched with a purpose towards the roof door, heading for the stairs. Tavin and Riel, delighting in their brief victory over Xu and the SeeDs, smiled deliriously as they followed her. Dax paused a moment, muttered, "This is insane," and then followed the others.

Zell gulped. Underneath his gloves, his palms were sweating furiously. Despite the warm, sunny weather, he felt chills coursing through his body.

He wasn't afraid of fighting. He'd been training for combat his whole life, and had taken down more Galbadians than he could count. But one look around the TV Station was enough for him to know how hopeless this upcoming battle would be, no matter how much they prepared for it. It was truly the very definition of a "last stand." After this, there wouldn't be anything left standing at all.

(So… I guess this is it.)

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind before they could grab hold and paralyze him with fear.

(Focus on the mission.)

Oftentimes, he could take comfort in the idea of fate, that things in his life all happened for a reason, and led him to specific outcomes. But this time, he sought solace in the opposite idea: that the future wasn't certain, and that anything could happen. Though it seemed like he and the others were preparing for a suicide mission, he reminded himself of all the other seemingly doomed missions he and Squall and the others had been on. All those missions he'd somehow survived. He trusted his ability to find a way to survive this one as well.

(Just gotta focus…)

With that thought in mind, he jogged after Dax and rushed down the stairs. Riel was talking loudly about where their stash of weapons was hidden in the building. To Zell's disappointment, it didn't sound like they had stockpiled very many supplies.

As the group neared the first floor, they heard a woman's voice echoing down the halls near the reception area. Zell felt a familiar tingling in the air, an electric buzzing sensation.

(It's her.)

"Are you still here?" the voice called. "Anyone?"

Riel heard the voice and perked up. "It's Ciel!" he said to the others. He faced down the stairs and yelled, "HEY! WE'RE HERE!"

His voice carried down the steps. Without waiting for a response, he dashed down the last flight of stairs with Tavin right behind him. The SeeDs followed after. Unlike the two Forest Wolves, the SeeDs were not eager to encounter the sorceress again, but they wanted to be included in the upcoming conversation.

Ciel greeted her comrades at the bottom of the stairs, exchanging long, enthusiastic hugs with her brother and her friend. Tavin blushed furiously when Ciel's arms wrapped around his thin body. When she released him, he shuffled off to the side, seemingly embarrassed by his actions.

When he reached the bottom of the steps, Zell got a good look at the sorceress. Her hair was matted and dirty, deep dark circles had formed under her eyes, her skin was oily. Her voice cracked with fatigue, even though—outwardly—she seemed energetic and invigorated.

(She probably hasn't slept since leaving the TV Station.)

That thought frightened Zell. Ciel was emotionally unstable under the best circumstances. Going almost thirty-six hours without rest would probably push her over the edge into full insanity. Zell clenched his fists, ready for whatever came next. He could see Xu and Dax tensing as well, watching the situation unfold.

"What happened?" Riel asked. "Was there trouble getting back?"

Ciel blew out her cheeks. "Yeah, that's an understatement. I got chased all the way back from Deling City and had to fight my way through… one… two," she looked up at the ceiling as she tried to remember. "Three… three or four barricades in the tracks. Had to hijack a second train because mine broke down at one point. I mean, it was crazy. Sorry it took me so long."

(So she hasn't been sleeping AND she's been fighting the whole time…)

"Well, you're safe, so that's the important part," Tavin said, smiling shyly.

Xu, apparently, was not interested in happy reunions. She marched down the last few steps and past Riel and Tavin, pushing the sorceress roughly out into the hallway where there was more room to talk. Ciel yelped out a protest as her body bumped into the far wall, but Xu ignored her.

"How did you get past the soldiers?" Xu asked, her face pressed close to the sorceress. "How are you getting in and out of Timber without being seen?"

Ciel looked away, her face clenched in anger and defiance.

"Answer me!" Xu said. She slammed the palm of her hand into the wall behind Ciel's shoulder. Ciel flinched, but didn't answer.

"Don't tell them," Riel said with a sneer. He crossed his arms and glared at Xu. "If you tell them, they're gonna leave us here to fight it out alone."

"What!" Ciel yelled. Desperately, she looked from Riel, to Xu, to Zell. Her wounded gaze lingered on Zell for an uncomfortably long time.

(Hey, why's she lookin' at me? What'd I do?)

"You can't leave!" Ciel said, a shriek of anger and frustration. "We had a deal!"

"You want to talk about the deal? Then where's the president?" Xu said. She paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. "You didn't bring him, did you?"

Ciel sighed weakly. "I… I meant to. I was gonna pick him up on the way back, but there were too many patrols. I wanted to get back here first, to see if you guys were still okay. I can go and get him but— "

"Then that's the end of the discussion," Xu said, firmly. "You've broken too many promises already. Your actions have endangered myself and my team and we are unable to work with you anymore. We are retreating. Now, tell us where this secret exit is."

Ciel balled her hands up into fists, grinding her teeth. Zell could feel the intangible energy of the sorceress, the buzzing sensation strengthening in the air as her energy slowly built up. It was like an invisible light in the room, growing brighter, warmer. Humming with power.

"No…" Ciel whispered. "You're staying with us. You're fighting with us. Like you _promised_."

"That's not going to happen," Xu said, not intimidated. "The TV Station is nearly impossible to defend, especially with only six people. There are too many windows and openings. Tell me how you're getting out of the city. We—all of us—need to evacuate before the Galbadians begin their attack. I can promise that SeeD will protect you, and you'll be welcome onboard Garden, but first we have to escape the city."

"If we lose the TV Station, we'll lose everything," Riel said. "The entire rebellion will collapse. No one's going to stand up and fight with us if we can't even defend one building."

"You won't lose everything," Xu said. She turned her head back to the stairwell to address Riel. "You'll still be alive. As long as you're alive, there's still a chance for the rebellion. I'm sorry, but you must understand—"

Xu reached out a firm, but gentle hand and placed it on Ciel's shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Ciel screamed.

With one hand, she swatted Xu off her shoulder and with her other hand, she released a burst of pure white energy into Xu's chest that exploded like a bomb, hurling Xu across the hallway and into the wall with a crunch. Wordlessly, Xu's limp body collapsed to the ground, landing face first on the cold, tiled floor.

"Xu!" Zell said, dashing into the hallway. He knelt beside her body and put his fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, barely, throbbing beneath her skin. But aside from that weak glimmer of life, there were no other obvious signs that she hadn't been killed.

Behind Zell, Dax grinned maniacally and punched one fist into his opposite hand, almost laughing out loud with joy.

"Rock and roll, suckers," he said. "Been waitin' for this!"

With a backhanded fist, he struck Tavin's jaw, turning the small redheaded boy into a tangle of limbs that fell to the floor in a heap. Riel yelped in surprise and jumped into the hallway, falling on his back and scuttling away from the towering, muscular SeeD.

Dax ignored him and charged into the hallway, yelling and barreling down on the sorceress with two clenched fists. His muscles strained in readiness. Zell could see veins popping out on his arms and neck.

Effortlessly, like swatting away a bug, Ciel flicked her wrist and another burst of light came from her hand, tossing the Dax backwards down the hall and into the wall. Unlike Xu, who was knocked out in one hit, the force of the impact only served to enrage Dax even further. He landed awkwardly on his feet and howled in fury, then charged again.

Ciel raised both hands, summoning more energy into an even greater burst of light that hit Dax and threw him back again, hard enough to leave cracks in the wall. This time, Dax collapsed to the floor and did not get up again.

Dizzy with adrenaline, Zell looked down at Xu, then over to Dax, lying limp down the hall. Then he glanced at the twins, and at Tavin's body still crumpled in the stairwell. He gulped.

(Oh crap…)  
After the surge of violence and the roar of Ciel's magic, the stillness that followed was agonizing. Zell could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his blood racing in his veins, his legs quivering as they demanded that he flee from the hallway before the sorceress turned her fury on him.

But by the time he realized the danger he was in, it was already too late to run. Ciel's eyes met his, and he was frozen in place by her anger, contempt, and frustration. He felt trapped. Zell gritted his teeth and braced himself, preparing to be the third person to be hurled across the hall by Ciel's magic.

A few moments passed and the attack he expected did not come.

"… Well?" Ciel asked.

Zell's eyes flicked around the room. "Uh… well, what?"

"Are you with us, or are you with them?" she asked, gesturing at the two SeeDs on the floor.

(I'm a SeeD. I'm with Xu and Dax.)

(But… I think… maybe I don't want to be _on the floor_ with them.)

Zell held up his hands in surrender. "I-I'm with you guys."

Ciel thought it over for a moment, the anger still burning in her eyes. Finally she softened, and nodded at him. "Good. Come on. We're going up to the roof to say hello to the Galbadians and remind them who's in charge here."

Zell exhaled in relief. He felt like he'd been staring down the barrel of a gun for the past few seconds. His legs were rubbery and unsteady. Ciel walked past him, energy still crackling in the air around her. She knelt beside Tavin and poured some of that energy into the boy. Tavin jerked awake, as if snapping out of a dream. The massive red lump on his jaw left by Dax's fist began to shrink with the healing power of the sorceress' magic.

Tavin rose into a sitting position. "Wh… what happened?"

"You okay?" Ciel asked.

Tavin rubbed his jaw experimentally, then nodded. Ciel helped him to his feet and together, followed by Riel, the members of Forest Wolf ascended the steps.

Zell hesitated. He didn't want to leave Xu and Dax alone. They both probably needed medical attention, at the very least a couple of cure spells. He looked down the hall at Dax's limp body, and realized that he didn't even know if Dax was alive or not.

But the sorceress didn't give him time to help his comrades. "Come on, Zell," she shouted into the hall, putting the hint of a threat into her voice. Zell bit his lip anxiously and got to his feet and followed after Forest Wolf. He shot one last guilty glance at his two fellow SeeDs before marching up the steps behind the others.

(I should do something.)

(I should… fight… or something.)

But the sorceress could obliterate him with a thought. How was he supposed to fight back against such power? He would need a carefully planned strategy executed perfectly in order to stand a chance against her. And that was the problem: he was terrible at coming up with plans. So instead he followed Forest Wolf up to the roof, hoping that an opportunity to escape would present itself to him.

Outside, the sun continuously cranked up the temperature as the morning turned to afternoon, and the roof was noticeably warmer than it had been just a few minutes before. He squinted in the glare, allowing his eyes time to adjust.

Ciel marched across the roof, heading for the edge. Everyone else chose to remain near the door, while the sorceress stepped right up to the railing. Zell looked around and saw that, while the troops continued to mass all around, they had not yet begun marching on the TV Station.

"You let them get too close," Ciel said to the others, as she observed the troops down below.

Despite her visible exhaustion, she seemed to have no trouble calling up the energy for a massive lightning spell. There was a crackling in the air as Ciel called up her magic, then an explosion as she launched the spell down into the city streets to the faraway Galbadian staging areas.

In the distance, Zell could see a vehicle burst like a tin can, while numerous Galbadians screamed in surprise and pain. A few rifles opened fire on the roof, but Ciel seemed not to notice or care. They were probably too far away to hit their target anyway. She raised her hand again, and again, firing bolt after bolt down into the streets, picking new targets each time.

More explosions, more screams, more gunfire erupted from below. Finally, Ciel stepped away from the wall, but she wasn't done with her attack yet. Instead, she went to the opposite edge and repeated, launching lightning bolts bigger than Zell had ever seen in his life down into the streets.

She did this again and again, until she'd laid waste in all four directions, firing several dozen bolts from each of the edges. By the time she was done, Zell could hear the roaring of uncontrolled fires in the streets, building caught ablaze by the lightning. Screams echoed from all directions, filling Zell with mortal dread. Standing there on the roof, with the sorceress Ciel raining thundering death down upon a ring of thousands of Galbadian soldiers, Zell became acutely aware of how isolated and alone he was at that moment.

(Oh, man…)

Smiling, Ciel returned to the others. Riel and Tavin stood grinning, as if her show of power had already won the battle. But it only took Zell one glance around to see the Galbadian force had not been beaten, or truly diminished. It had barely even been scathed by her relentless assault. The wounded soldiers and damaged weapons were pulled aside, replaced by fresh troops and artillery. Ciel's attack had been nothing more than an annoyance.

Ciel raised her hands towards Zell, questioningly. "Why would you want to retreat, when we're practically about to win this war?" she asked. "This is what I wanted. What we all wanted. Galbadia spared us the trouble of us hunting them down, and they came conveniently to us, damned near gift-wrapped. We just have to finish 'em off."

Her grin widened. Zell could see both her power and her madness, swirling about in her eyes like a vortex. She laughed, once, an almost involuntary act that slipped out her lips like a cough and made her shoulders shrug.

Then she dropped to the hard floor beneath her, collapsing into a sitting position. Fatigue—pure, inescapable exhaustion—overwhelmed her exhilaration. She visibly struggled to keep from fainting, her head teetering back and forth as she fought for consciousness.

Her brother raced to her side, kneeling next to her and cradling her upper body and her head in his arms. He whispered soothing words to her that Zell could not hear. Tavin joined him on the other side, leaning over Ciel and whispering something else.

Zell saw his opportunity and he took it. With a muttered excuse, he turned and opened the roof door, then headed back inside and down the steps. He jogged down the first flight of stairs, terrified that Ciel was going to get back up, notice he was gone, then chase him down and kill him. But on the next landing he paused and listened. The door to the roof remained closed. No one was coming after him.

Zell shuddered in the cool air of the stairwell and sighed in relief.

(Oh man…)

He went down the rest of the stairs and returned to the first floor hallway. He moaned in despair when he saw that neither Dax nor Xu had moved at all since he'd left. Both were still lying in crumpled heaps on the floor, Xu near the door next to the stairs and Dax a little further down the hall.

Although Xu was closer, he moved over to Dax first, just to check to make sure that he was alive. Furthermore, if there came a time when he would have to fight Ciel and he could only save one of his two teammates, he thought he would rather have Dax's strength on his side, as opposed to Xu's intelligence. If nothing else, Dax's massive frame would at least make a good shield.

He felt against Dax's sinewy neck, rummaging around with his fingers to check for a pulse. He, like Xu, still had a faint pulse. Zell closed his eyes and pushed aside his fears, his anxiety, and focused on his magic.

He wasn't terribly skilled with magic, and he had no idea where his two companions were hurt or how badly, so a general cure spell was the only thing he could think of casting. He called up the energy for one of his strongest spells and sent into Dax.

Unlike when Ami had healed Dax's bullet wound, the spell Zell cast didn't come out in a fine, focused mist, but rather a messy fog, dispersing unevenly along Dax's body. Zell tried to focus on Dax's head and neck—where he assumed the injuries were worst—but his clumsy magical abilities couldn't handle the powerful spell. The green haze settled wherever it chose on Dax's body and seeped into his pores. There was no immediate reaction, so Zell cast another spell for good measure. Still, Dax didn't stir.

(Oh man…)

Zell got up and jogged over to Xu, emptying another couple of powerful cure spells into her. Like with Dax, the healing energy soaked into her body but failed to rouse her. Zell plopped down hard on the floor and covered his eyes with his gloved hands.

(What am I supposed to do?)

The weight of all the pressure of the situation fell upon him in a single blow. Xu, his commander, was unconscious, unable to guide him. Dax, his support, was unable to defend him. The rest of his friends were far away, not even in radio contact. As far as Zell was concerned, Garden might as well have been under the ocean, for all the good they could do for him at that moment. His clients were clearly insane, and one wrong word might get him killed by the very people he was supposed to be working for. And to top it all off, Galbadia was encircling the building, readying an attack that would utterly crush everyone in the TV Station.

Zell choked. It was as if the pressure of the moment had transformed into a literal pressure, squeezing his chest, making it hard to breathe. He didn't know what to do. He had no idea what the best choice was, or the most logical choice, or even any logical choice. His mind was totally blank.

More than anything, he wanted the radio in his pocket to crackle to life, for Quistis' voice, or Squall's voice, or the Headmaster's voice, anyone, to come over the speaker and tell him what to do next. To give him clear orders that he could easily obey. Even if the orders were something simple like, "Zell, you have to fight," or, "Zell, you have to run," he would have welcomed any advice and followed it gladly.

But the radio was silent, except for a steady hiss and a few random voices now and then. The first floor hallway was silent. After a few moments, he could that that outside the building the crackle of gunfire and lightning had resumed. Judging from the sounds, apparently Ciel had recovered herself and was continuing her assault on the Galbadian staging areas, while they fired back on her position.

He hissed between his teeth in frustration. If she insisted on attacking the Galbadians while they were making their preparations, she would only provoke them to attack sooner and harder.

(This is it. The big battle.)

Just as Zell began preparing his mind for one final fight, down the hall Dax coughed, moaned, and rolled onto his side. Zell lit up like the sun, exploding onto his feet and charging across the hall.

"DAX!" he shouted, so relieved he could have cried for joy. He knelt down next to his teammate and put a hand on his muscled shoulder, gently shaking him.

"Dax, you alright, man?" Zell asked.

Dax moaned. "Feel like crap…" he said.

Zell smiled. For a moment, Zell was tempted to wrap Dax in the biggest bear hug of his life, but Zell had a feeling that even in his weakened state, Dax still could have knocked Zell clear across the hall if he tried anything like that.

"Where is she?" Dax asked. "Where's the bitch? I'm gonna… gonna kill her."

Using his arms, Dax slowly worked his way into a sitting position, then propped his back against the wall.

"She's on the roof," Zell said. "She's shooting lightning at the Galbadians."

"Ugh…" Dax said. Gripping his side with one hand and dragging his shoulder up along the wall, he slowly rose to his feet. "So what do we do now?"

Zell shrugged. "I dunno. I was kinda hopin' you'd have a plan."

Dax narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah, I came up with the best plan ever when I was laying knocked out on the floor."

"Really?"

Dax's anger, for a moment, almost matched the fury Zell had seen in Ciel's eyes earlier.

"No… not really," Dax said. "I have no ideas."

(That makes two of us…)

"How's Xu?" Dax asked, nodding down the hall at Xu's crumpled form.

"She's alive," Zell said. "I doused her with cure spells, but I can't seem to wake her up."

"Not surprising," Dax said. "That was a hell of a hit she took. You saw what it did to me, and I'm three times Xu's size."

(No arguing with that.)

Footsteps clamored down the stairs and the pair instantly perked up, clenching their fists, ready for a fight. A flustered and sweaty Tavin burst into view, carrying an assault rifle in both hands.

"The sorceress needs you on the roof," he said quickly. "Hurry!"

He moved to head back up the steps, but paused when he saw that neither of the SeeDs were following him.

Dax sneered. "To hell with the sorceress. If that psycho wants us, she can come get us."

(I don't think we want her to come get us…)

Tavin winced, as if Dax's words were physically hurting him. "Please! There's no time!"

But Zell was beginning to get a feeling for how the team dynamics in Forest Wolf worked. The twins, Ciel and Riel, were obviously the two dominant forces, while Tavin was a meek little soldier who did what he was told. Left on his own, Tavin could be easily controlled and frightened.

"Tell us where the secret exit is," Zell said, glaring as hard as he could. "Tell us… and we'll go up with you."

He bit his lip, hoping that Tavin would take the bait. If Zell and Dax knew the way out of the city, it would be an easy matter to knock out Tavin—even if he did have an assault rifle—and then flee while the sorceress was distracted.

But Tavin apparently recognized that possibility as well. He shook his head nervously. "N-no. You come up, _then_ I'll tell you. I promise."

Dax snorted in response, but Zell said, "All right. We'll go."

Tavin nodded and rushed up the steps, disappearing from view. Dax looked down at the other SeeD and shook his head.

"Little runt's not gonna keep his word," Dax said. "And we'll be stuck on the roof with the psycho."

"He'll keep his word," Zell said. "Come on."

(This might be our only chance…)

(It's not like the twins will ever tell us.)

Zell moved for the stairs, wondering if Dax was strong enough to support himself yet. Dax pushed off the wall and staggered a couple steps, slowly becoming more balanced and steady. Then the pair got to the stairwell and Dax knelt down beside Xu. He lifted her up and cradled her between his arms, her body limp in his hands, her brown hair falling over her unconscious face. Zell couldn't decide if it was better to leave Xu down on the first floor or not, so he said nothing.

The pair climbed quickly up the steps. Even in his wounded state, Dax had little trouble hauling both himself and Xu to the top. Zell glanced back frequently to make sure that Dax was keeping up and to ensure that he wasn't on the verge of dropping her. They both got to the roof and burst through the door, emerging once again in the bright, hot sunlight.

Ciel stood on the northern edge of the roof, firing down rhythmic bolts of lightning. Each crash of lightning was followed by an explosion and a cluster of screams from the streets below. Nearby, her brother Riel had acquired a black assault rifle and fired wildly into the streets. The extreme distance between the TV Station and the Galbadian front meant that most of his bullets lodged in nearby buildings or the street long before they struck any soldiers, yet he continued to fire, more as a threatening gesture than as an actual attack.

But as Zell stepped out onto the roof, he noticed the reason why Tavin had called him back up. The lines of blue uniforms that surrounded the TV Station—while still distant, many blocks away at the nearest point—were moving. They were advancing.

The attack was beginning.

(Oh man!)

Ciel paused her magic when she heard the door close behind Zell and Dax. Her eyes went first to Zell, then to Dax and the unconscious Xu in his arms. She spun around and turned her rage towards Tavin.

"What are they doing here?" she yelled, pointing at Dax and Xu. "You should have left them downstairs!"

Tavin shrunk away from her, clutching his rifle like a security blanket. Dax snorted defiantly, but didn't say anything. Instead, he calmly walked across the roof and found a safe place to set Xu down. He propped her against an antenna, taking care to make sure her head and neck were supported, before standing up and facing the sorceress.

Ciel glared at him, but didn't attack. "Fine," she said after a moment. "We could use your help anyway." She turned her attention to Zell. "I need you to help me prepare the backup plan."

Zell frowned in confusion. "Uh… Backup plan?"

Ciel smiled, her grin frightening him almost as much as her anger. There was no warmth or humor in her smile. Only the fearless certainty of a person who was absolutely unwilling to compromise, and totally unafraid of death.

"Yeah," she said. "Come with me, Zell."

Riel stopped firing his weapon and turned towards his sister. "I should go with you instead. I know more about it than he does."

"No, you keep an eye on him," Ciel said, nodding at Dax.

Riel's lip twitched, obvious annoyance showing on his face. Nevertheless, he didn't argue. "Fine. Make it quick. They'll be here soon."

Dax, standing protectively near Xu, turned to Tavin and glared at him. He mouthed the words, "Your promise," at the red-haired boy. Tavin nodded, then shot a nervous glance at Ciel. Zell realized that if Tavin was going to say anything, he wouldn't do it with Ciel standing nearby. Their only chance of finding that secret exit required Zell to get Ciel off the roof.

(I don't like this.)

But he had no choice. Ciel rushed across the roof. She snatched Zell's hand in hers. He'd hoped to avoid contact with her, but she was too quick and caught him off guard. The instant her hand grabbed his, he felt the dizzying strength of her energy flow from her body into his, like a feverish heat. She held his hand like a vice and yanked him towards the stairwell.

Once again, like the last time she'd held his hand, Zell felt his mind wandering, filling with images that weren't from his own head. He saw the Galbadian army advancing on their spot, but being thrown back by the valiant combined efforts of SeeD and Forest Wolf. He saw soldiers clad in blue, running in fear of the power of the teenagers on the roof of the TV Station. He saw their robots break apart in showers of sparks, their vehicles crash into buildings, and their officers drop down on their knees and beg for mercy.

And then she released her grip, Zell opened his eyes, and found that the two of them were now standing outside the recording studio. Zell's eyes widened. He had no memory of going downstairs.

(What. The. HELL?!)

While he stood dumbstruck in the hallway, Ciel popped open the door. She automatically reached for Zell's hand again, but this time he was prepared for her. He pulled his hand away and stepped past her into the recording room, hoping that she wouldn't notice that he'd purposely dodged her grasp.

Ciel followed and then shut behind them, sealing them in the control room, closing off all sounds from the outside world. The sudden quiet was almost startling.

"So why'd ya bring me in here?" Zell asked, trying to be calm and casual. He stepped forward towards the control panel, then turned around to face the sorceress.

Ciel stood facing the door, her fingers on the knob. He looked at the back of her head, seeing her hair, dusty blonde in the dim light of the control room. He glanced at the red bandanna tied in her hair, stained with sweat and dirt and—Zell realized—patches of blood as well. The blood was old and had turned brown as it dried, but Zell recognized it immediately. He had more experience with bloodstains than he would have liked.

"I killed General Caraway," Ciel said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. Zell frowned.

(Why's she telling me this?)

Zell scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I know. I heard about it."

Ciel turned around slowly and looked up at Zell across the control room, leaning back against the inside of the door. Zell tried to read her eyes, but they were cold, expressionless, and revealed nothing.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"About what?" Zell asked. "I don't…"

(What is she asking?)

"I don't know," Zell said, hoping she'd fill in the blanks for him.

Ciel nodded thoughtfully, as if he'd said precisely what she expected to hear. She focused her gaze down at the floor near her feet. "Yeah. I don't know either. I was surprised at first, you know? It was just so _easy_. I got out of Timber, got on our personal train to Deling City, snuck into his mansion, and killed him. It was just something I _did_, you know? It was like delivering a letter, or going to the store. I just… did it. I kind of expected… I don't know what I expected."

(I still have no idea what she's talking about.)

"Yeah, I know," Zell said. "You killed General Caraway. I heard the whole story."

She was growing frustrated, that much Zell could tell. She stepped forward a pace, as if standing closer to Zell would help her meaning get across.

"I assassinated General Caraway," she said, almost pleadingly. "I did it. I killed probably the most powerful man on the planet."

Zell bit his lip. "I-I still don't know what you're tryin' to say. What's your point?"

Ciel punched the door with the back of her fist, her placid face erupting in sudden anger. She stomped across the control room and got right in Zell's face, her breath steaming out of her nose. The air was buzzing again, but Zell barely noticed. "Don't you _get it_? I killed him! I killed Caraway!"

Zell took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. "I… I know you did! I knew right after it happened! It was all over the radio!" He contorted his face into a confused smile. "Good… good job? Congrats? H-hooray?"

(I hope that's what she wants…)

Ciel looked away. By degrees, she calmed down. Zell could feel her power ebbing away as her rage subsided. Slowly, deliberately, she gathered her thoughts and figured out what she was trying to say. She looked at Zell again.

"A week ago, I was nobody," Ciel said. "I was second-in-command in a three-person resistance group that no one had ever heard of. Even the other resistance groups in Timber didn't respect us. Friggin… friggin _Forest Fox_ made a joke about us once. Do you know that they have like, some forty-something-year-old lady in their group? Some stupid housewife made fun of Forest Wolf! That's who we were a week ago. A _joke_."

The anger in her face, in her voice, slowly returned, but Zell got the feeling that it wasn't aimed at him this time, at least not directly. He held very, very still, and tried not to make any noise, tried not to even breathe, like he was locked in a cage with a sleeping dragon that would eat him whole if he woke it up.

(Just let her talk…)

"But now what?" Ciel said, her anger shifting to manic delight like flipping a switch. "Who took over the TV Station? Who killed General Caraway? Who's got the whole damn G-Army running after her? Me. ME! I did all that." She slammed the palm of her hand against her chest. "Now I'm _somebody_. I'm 'The Timber Sorceress.' All capital letters. I'm in the news. Everyone knows me. I'm the biggest, most dangerous person in the world right now. And it's amazing!"

She laughed, her voice cracking and broken.

"And I just…" Ciel said, her voice rising and her speech turning more rapid, "I just walked into Deling City and killed General Caraway. I guess a part of me always used to think, you know, people like him were immortal. The really big names, the ones with all the power and the prestige and the fancy white mansions. I thought they were untouchable. I thought I had to negotiate with them, play the game by their rules, and maybe—if they liked me enough—they'd give me what I wanted."

Ciel smiled and shook her head.

"But now I know, a sorceress makes her own rules," she said. "That's why Galbadia is sending all these soldiers to come for me. Because they know it too. They know! If they don't stop me here, they'll never stop me. Once this battle is over, it's all gonna be different. Until now, it's always been the worst people who get the most power. They lie and cheat and—and—and do all this other stuff to get power, and they're corrupted as hell by the time they reach the top.

"But I'm not like them. I'm not like the politicians at Deling City, or the forty-year-old housewife in Forest Fox who sits on her ass and calls herself a 'rebel.' I'm The Timber Sorceress. I understand everything now, and I'm trying… I'm trying to get you to understand it too. This is the universe balancing itself out, Zell. This is fate correcting its mistakes. This is the beginning of a completely new world."

(I…)

(… Oh man…)

(She's nuts.)

Ciel took a step towards Zell. Without thinking, he took an equivalent step backwards. Her mood, which had changed back and forth from furious rage, to cold detachment, to manic ecstasy, now showed something else. Zell couldn't immediately recognize it or, more accurately, he was in denial of what he saw in her face.

"I want you there with me, Zell," Ciel said, her voice softening to a whisper. "When I remake the world, I want you at my side."

With horror, Zell recognized this expression on her face.

(Is she… _hitting on me_?)

A sensuous smile crept across the sorceress' face. As Zell retreated backwards, she pursued, reaching out a hand and resting her fingertips on his chest. The electric energy of her touch flowed from her hand into his body, rushing into his heart, making it race. He continued to retreat, until his backside bumped against the control panel. With nowhere else to run, the sorceress pushed close against him, her warm, perspiring body pressing along his. He was aware of every piece of her whole body as she leaned her weight upon him. She looked up, still smiling, the top of her head just coming up to his chin.

Inside, he was screaming.

"I was meant to be a sorceress," Ciel whispered, her mouth so close to Zell's that he could feel each word she spoke as her breath touched his face. "You were meant to be assigned to this mission. We were meant to share this moment together, here, now. And you're meant to be my knight."

(GAH!)

"Y-y-y-your knight?" Zell choked out.

"Every sorceress needs a knight," Ciel said. Her face drew closer still. "That's what the stories say. A protector. A helper. A guide. A champion. It's fate. That's what it is, Zell. I've liked you since the moment I saw you. I've never doubted us for a second. Because… there's no other way it could be. We are meant to be together, Zell. Here, I'll show you."

Quickly, without warning, she closed the gap between her mouth and his, sealing his breath, stifling his protest before he could voice it.

Once again, his mind vanished into some faraway place while images flooded his brain. He saw the vision of the victory at the TV Station again, the G-Army in ruins, falling back in shame and defeat. But this time, the images didn't stop there. He saw the citizens of Timber rising up as one, led by the sorceress and her brave, blonde-haired knight, pursuing the G-Army across the continent, chasing them back to Deling City, then cornering, capturing, and killing them all.

He saw himself, from an outsider's perspective, standing in front of the podium at the presidential palace in Deling City, embracing the sorceress Ciel in triumph and adoration. The two shared a long, passionate kiss, as the streets below erupted in cheers, filled with the victorious Timber rebels. The news reported her conquest of Galbadia, and all nations bowed before her and her knight, submitting themselves to her will and her dominion. Thus her kingdom was born, a kingdom of eternal peace and prosperity, for as long as she and her knight still ruled over it.

Finally, mercifully, she broke off the kiss, and left Zell gasping in the control room. He wiped his mouth with one hand, trying not to throw up.

"I…" he said, panting. "I have a girlfriend, you know."

The ecstatic joy in her face dropped in an instant, replaced with a terrible darkness. Zell could have sworn that the lights in the room dimmed. He unconsciously continued to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, but the lingering sensation of her kiss wouldn't leave his lips. It was as if she'd left a part of herself there, a part that would stay with him forever.

"You're lying," Ciel said.

"I-It's true," Zell said, straightening up. "She's… her name's Ami. We just started going steady a couple of days ago, but we've been… you know… for a while, I guess. And I… um…"

He stopped, unsure of how to continue. Only now was he beginning to realize that his words were shovels, each one digging his grave a little deeper. He shut up and dropped his hand from his mouth.

(Pretty sure she's gonna kill me…)

"Ami…" Ciel said, pronouncing both syllables carefully, delicately. "She's a SeeD?"

"Well, ah, no… well, maybe," Zell said. "She's a SeeD candidate. A cadet. She just took the Field Exam, so she might be a SeeD now. If she passed the exam. I dunno. I think she did. She's pretty good at tests. I don't think she'd fail or anything, but you know. I dunno."

Ciel exhaled sharply through her nose. It wasn't a sigh, or a groan. It was, near as Zell could tell, completely emotionless. Every muscle in Zell's body clenched at once. He wanted to run, but Ciel was standing between him and the only exit. Even if he was given a head start, he doubt he'd make it far.

"Interesting," Ciel said. "Well… best of luck to you two."

(… Huh?)

"… Um… Thanks?" Zell said. He cleared his throat. He could still feel the impression of her lips against his, but he fought the urge to wipe his mouth again.

"Anyway," Ciel said, casually, as if nothing had changed, "That's our backup plan over there."

She pointed to the large wooden crate off to the side. Zell remembered that was the crate Ciel had been sitting on when Zell had first come into this room to play "good cop" with Forest Wolf. He remembered thinking it was rather odd for a large wooden crate to be in a recording booth, and now he knew why.

"What's in the crate?" he asked.

"Some weapons," Ciel said dismissively. "Pick it up and bring it to the roof. Riel's probably throwing a fit already."

She said this last bit with a flippant roll of her eyes, as if Zell and Ciel were merely late for a dinner party, rather than being moments away from facing down the largest military in the Western hemisphere.

Although still deeply disturbed by Ciel's random emotional fluctuations, Zell was glad that she apparently decided against frying him with lightning, and so he worked quickly to ensure he didn't anger her again. He moved over to the crate, grabbed it by a pair of metal handles on either end. He lifted, but didn't go anywhere.

The crate barely budged.

He straightened up, spread out his stance, and tried again, lifting from the knees. He grunted and strained and finally got the crate to move, then lift off the floor. He got the crate high enough to where he could rest some of the crate's weight on his knees, giving his arms a much-needed break.

"What…" he panted, "What have you got in here? Friggin dark matter?"

Ciel was unsympathetic. Coldly, she said, "Hurry it up. We need to get that to the roof."

She turned to the door and opened it. Before she stepped through the threshold, she paused and glanced back at Zell.

"Oh, and Zell…" she said. "If I die, I'm gonna take you with me. So you'd better protect me."

She stepped into the hall, allowing the door to close shut behind her. Zell stared slack-jawed at the closed door, still trying to process what she'd said.

(The hell did she mean by that?)

He ignored that statement and directed his energy towards the absurdly heavy crate in his arms. He squirmed around, struggling to find a better purchase for his fingers and then with a grunt, he hauled the crate up to his chest. He wasn't strong enough to hold the crate there using only his arms, so he had to lean backwards, putting intense pressure on his spine. He winced with every shuffling little step he took, but he was somehow able to walk.

And then he got to the door. The closed door.

If he set the crate down there, it'd take him forever to pick it back up. His only option was for Ciel to open the door for him. He kicked the door with his foot, hoping she was still close enough to hear him.

A moment later, the door opened a crack and Ciel stuck her head through.

"What's taking so long?" she asked.

"The crate…" Zell said through clenched teeth. "Heavy. The door. Please."

Ciel sighed, then opened the door wide enough for Zell to pass through. Grunting and shuffling, he worked his way out into the hall. Ciel closed the door behind him and walked ahead of Zell. Zell did his best to keep up, but quickly fell behind as Ciel made her way down the hall, then turned the corner, heading for the stairs.

Gritting his teeth against the burning pain in his arms, legs, and back, Zell tried to send his mind somewhere else, to think of something distracting. But all that came to mind was the scene in the recording booth, Ciel's insane speech, the kiss, the vision, and her threat.

(She kissed me…)

Of all the things that happened, it was the fact that she'd kissed him—on the lips, even—that stuck out most in his mind. Nothing that happened in the recording booth made any sense to him, and he almost began to wonder if the whole event was just another weird vision, like the images of Zell and Ciel defeating the G-Army together.

(Maybe there was no kiss?)

Zell finally reached the stairwell. He looked at the steps and moaned. Several flights stood between him and the top, and each and every stair looked like some cruel torture device.

(I got this.)

(No sweat.)

He placed one foot on the first step, shifted it around to make sure it was stable, then hopped his other foot to join the first. He wobbled, the crate threatening to overbalance him and send him toppling backwards down the steps, but he recovered. He put another foot down on the next step, then hopped again.

After one flight of steps, his hands were cramped, screaming knots of pain stuck on the ends of his numb, tingling arms. His back felt like he'd broken several vertebrae, and sweat ran down his face and into his eyes.

Ciel was one flight above, looking down at Zell with her arms crossed, obviously annoyed.

"Fine, I'll help," she muttered.

"Thank… you," Zell gasped.

He shuffled his weight to one side, allowing room for Ciel to grab the other end of the crate by the handle and hold it. Even though he knew that she was a sorceress, with powers far beyond his own, the fact that she was a girl—and a rather small girl as well—still registered in Zell's brain. As Ciel gripped the handle and prepared to take half of the weight of the crate, Zell instinctively braced himself to shoulder about ninety-percent of the burden anyway.

To his surprise, once Ciel had a firm grip on the crate, she lifted it easily with one hand, causing Zell to overbalance and nearly fall over.

"Oomph!" he cried out as he stumbled.

"Jeez, you're weak," Ciel muttered. "Who'd want you for a knight anyway?"

With that, she practically dragged Zell and the crate up the steps. Zell struggled to keep up with her, tripping blindly over steps and fighting to hold up his end of the crate. His muscles were overjoyed to be free of the full burden of the crate and blood flow returned to his arms and fingers, making them tingle painfully.

In almost no time at all, Ciel got to the roof and burst through the doorway and into the sunlight. She got a few steps out, then dropped the crate without warning. Zell, still holding the other end, pitched forward on top the crate but saved himself with one hand before he smashed his face into the wooden lid.

He looked up and saw why she'd dropped the crate without any warning. His jaw fell open.

Dax stood in the middle of the roof, well away from the Galbadian gunfire and artillery that thundered all around. He had Riel's small, blonde head in a punishing chokehold, squeezing so tightly it was changing Riel's face every possible shade of red. Tavin stood off to the side, his assault rifle angled at the two. Dax held Riel and stood between the still unconscious body of Xu, using himself and Riel as shields so that neither Tavin nor Ciel could aim at the helpless Xu.

"Let him GO!" Ciel screamed. In an instant, white balls of energy forming on both sides of her, encircling the palms of her hands like tiny white suns.

"Go ahead!" Dax said through gritted teeth. "I'll pop your brother's head like a damned zit!"

Dax's squeezed to emphasize his threat. Riel could only manage choked gasps and gargling wheezes while in the iron grip of Dax's arms. His fingers clawed at Dax's forearm, but weakly.

(This is bad!)

"DAX!" Zell hollered. "WHAT THE HELL, MAN?"

"We're gettin' out of here, Zell," Dax said. "The mission's over. We're retreating."

"I'll… I'll…" Ciel said, looking around. But there was no leverage that she could use against him. Nothing she could do to Dax that didn't also endanger her brother.

"Tell us where the secret exit is, and we'll go," Dax said, his voice calm. As he spoke, he tightened his grip on Ciel's twin ever so slightly. Riel's eyes rolled in his skull, his arms and legs twitched, starting to go limp. His gasping breaths were becoming shallower and more pained with every second.

Nobody spoke for several seconds, with the noise of the steady rattle of Galbadian gunshots and explosions filling the air. From his vantage point on the roof, Zell could see that the nearest troops were little more than a few blocks away now. Their shots were still going wild—the angle from the ground was too steep for them to have a clear shot—but soon they would be inside the building itself.

"Fine!" Ciel said. "You want to play it like that… then FINE!"

To Zell's horror, she turned towards him, hatred burning in her eyes. His first thought was that she was going to use him as a hostage, creating a hopeless standoff between her and Dax. His mind conjured an image of Forest Wolf and SeeD being stuck in a standoff while Galbadia stormed the building and killed them all.

(That'd be a lousy way to die.)

Panicking, Zell scrambled away from her, retreating into the stairwell. But then she stopped at the crate. With her magically augmented strength, she pulled one end of the crate as if it was nothing but an empty cardboard box, bringing it away from the door and nearer to Dax. Dax stiffened and tightened his grip on Riel, his eyes darting from Ciel to the crate and back again.

She released the box and turned her attention to the heavy padlock on the front. She put her fingers on the metal, using magic to heat it red-hot, and then yanked the lock off with a quick snap of her wrist. She flung the lock into the air and kicked open the crate, revealing its contents.

Inside was a shiny metal cylinder, covered in red, yellow, and green wires. A glowing red timer sat firmly in the middle, all the digits currently reading "00000." Zell gasped.

(A bomb!?)

"No one leaves!" Ciel said, rising to face Dax, wild triumph in her eyes. "We had a deal! You fight for us, or you die with us! What's it gonna be?"

She turned back to the bomb and flipped a couple of switches on the control panel. The metal cylinder began to hum as the circuitry fired up. She rested her thumb on a glowing red button, grinning at Dax, daring him to defy her.

(JEEZ!)

(That's their backup plan?!)  
Zell froze in place. Time dilated, each second stretching into minutes. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. One beat. Two beats. He could feel the sun's rays against his skin. Further down the roof, Tavin stood, holding his assault rifle in his trembling hands, glancing back and forth between Dax and Ciel. Dax's eyes narrowed to slits as he considered the bomb, but his grip on Riel did not slacken. The teenager in his grasp was now almost unconscious, Riel's breath coming out in faint sobs—when it came out at all. All around, gunfire crackled as the Galbadians took potshots at the roof, at the walls, hoping to hit something—anything—as they continued their relentless approach.

And standing next to the largest bomb Zell had ever seen was the sorceress Ciel, with her finger on the button.

Tavin cried out. "It's the supply closet on the first floor! There's a hidden panel on the right-hand side—"

"TAVIN! SHUT UP!" Ciel screamed.

In a flash, she hurled a ball of white energy at the boy. It hit him square in the chest, blasting his rifle out of his hands and hurling his whole body through the air. The red-headed boy went limp with the impact, flying across the roof, his limbs splaying in all directions. He kept flying and flying, until his back hit the railing. He flipped over the top of the rail and dropped over the edge. With a surprised squeak, he fell out of sight and was gone.

Zell breathed.

His heart kept hammering.

Dax's grip on Riel held firm.

The gunfire around them continued to chatter relentlessly.

"T… Tavin?" Ciel said, her voice small, frightened. Her finger lifted off the button on the bomb.

"TAV!" she shrieked, rushing to the edge of the rooftop, to the place where she'd last seen him. She gripped the railing in both hands and leaned out over the edge, screaming his name again. Soldiers on the ground honed in on her, directing their gunfire on her wild form. She mindlessly swept the bullets away with a translucent blue shield and continued searching over the edge.

After a moment, she stopped screaming Tavin's name, her body frozen in position, her eyes locked on one particular spot.

Dax threw Riel roughly to the ground, the teenager's body crumpling in a heap on the roof. Dax got on one knee and scooped up Xu in both arms and sprinted for the door.

"Move, Zell!" he yelled. "Move, damn it!"

Zell, stunned, broke out of his trance.

(We're running?)

(We're running!)

He shot a glance over at Ciel. She still leaned over the railing, her body as still as one of the antennas on the roof. Zell spun around and threw open the door to the roof and started running.

He took the stairs three at a time, then jumped, landing hard on the first landing. He spun and looked up, just in time to see Dax burst through the doorway with Xu in his arms and start flying down the steps. Zell watched for a moment, fully expecting to see Ciel in pursuit, lightning crackling in both hands, mad fury burning in her eyes.

But Dax reached the first landing and ran past Zell and still the sorceress had yet to follow them. Zell watched and waited.

Above, from the rooftop, Ciel let out a long, anguished wail. Zell had never before heard a scream like that in his life. Zell's blood ran cold. He ran down the stairs, chasing after Dax, hoping that Ciel wasn't right behind him.

("If I die, I'm gonna take you with me.")

Zell whimpered.

Then, with a sickening feeling in his gut, he realized that if she really wanted them all dead, she didn't need to bother chasing them down. The bomb was still on the roof, the detonation button still ready and waiting for the order to turn the TV Station and its occupants into particles of dust.

(Would I even feel it?)

He heard thunder booming above him, but his brain didn't process the significance of it until he remembered that lightning was Ciel's preferred spell. If she was firing off lightning, then that probably meant she was attacking the Galbadians. And if she was still fighting, then she probably wasn't going to detonate the bomb. At least, not yet, anyway.

(We still have time!)

The SeeDs reached the first floor hallway. Dax ran out of the stairwell and stopped, spinning around to face Zell.

"Where's the supply closet?" Dax said.

"Over here!" Zell said. Out of sheer boredom, he'd toured the TV Station a couple of times during their brief stay and had gotten a good feel for the layout. He turned right down the hall, away from the reception area, and sprinted with Dax running close behind him.

(We're still not blown to pieces. That's a good sign.)

Near the end of the hall was a nondescript gray door, with a faded sticker on the front. Printed in block letters on the sticker were the words, "Supply Closet."

Zell yanked the door open and looked inside. The closet reeked of mold and chemical cleaners. Decades-old bleach bottles and solvents lined the shelves, along with a rotting mop and a yellow bucket on the floor. A rusty water faucet was stuck on the wall, hovering above a drain in the bottom of the closet.

"Where is it?" Dax asked.

Zell looked around, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The supply closet showed no signs of any secret passageways, and was barely even wide enough to admit one person. Zell's heart sank.

(Did Tavin lie to us?)

Before he could finish the thought, he saw a small recess in the wall on the right-hand side. Upon closer scrutiny, he realized it was a handhold. It was so small and so crusted over with filth that Zell wouldn't have seen it at all if Tavin hadn't specifically told him to search that side.

"Here!" Zell said. With one hand, he shoved aside the mop and bucket and stuck his fingers into the handhold and pulled. The doorway gave some resistance at first, but then pulled open, kicking up a cloud of dust and mold and revealing a narrow vertical shaft beyond. Inside the shaft was a steel ladder leading down into the darkness.

"YES!" Dax said.

Zell scanned the shelves of the closet, his eyes quickly finding a worn old flashlight. He noticed fingerprints on the dust, indicating that it'd been used recently. He grabbed it and turned the switch on. Relief flooded his body when the device sputtered to life, shooting out a weak beam of light.

"You go first," Zell said, motioning for Dax to take point. Dax shuffled Xu's body around, and then heaved her up over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Zell frowned at him, but he knew there wasn't enough time to treat her more delicately. Dax steadied Xu's body with one hand, then stepped into the supply closet and began quickly descending the rungs of the ladder.

Then he heard gunfire shatter a nearby window, and the sounds of a Galbadian officer ordering his troops to storm the building.

(Crap, crap, crap.)

Zell jumped into the closet and closed the door behind him, leaving his flashlight as the only source of light. He aimed the beam down the shaft and got onto the ladder. With one free hand, he shut the hidden door—to hopefully buy some time when the Galbadians infiltrated the building and started poking around. With that accomplished, he began descending the ladder.

It was only about one story down to where the ladder ended. Zell hopped off, nearly bumping into Dax in the darkness, and began sweeping the beam of his flashlight around to get his bearings.

They were in an aqueduct. A large metal pipe ran down the length of the tunnel, transporting cold, rushing water into the heart of the city. Zell frowned.

(Why does the Timber TV Station have a secret passage into an aqueduct?)

Zell exchanged a quick glance with Dax and then started jogging down the tunnel, wondering if Ciel was going to suddenly change her mind and decide to blow them up after all. Considering the bomb's size, he figured they were probably still well within the blast radius—even underground—and therefore far from safety.

The tunnel was silent—eerily so. The only sounds were their footsteps and their combined breathing. Even the sounds of the battle above were inaudible where they were. Dax, with Xu still flung over his shoulder, had no trouble keeping up with Zell's pace as they hustled down the dark tube.

After the length of several city blocks, Dax spoke up.

"Why's this tunnel here?" he asked.

"It's an aqueduct," Zell said, jogging along.

"A what now?" Dax asked.

"Don't you remember from school?" Zell asked. "Timber gets its fresh water from Obel Lake. It's the only freshwater source around. So that means that this tunnel probably goes all the way up to the lake. That's how Ciel's been getting in and out of the city."

Dax scratched his head with his free hand. "You actually pay attention in class?"

Zell smiled and gave a thumbs up. "Eh, sometimes! And it's paying off for once!"

But that raised the question, if there was a tunnel leading right from the TV Station to the outside of Timber, why hadn't Galbadia closed it off, or even sent soldiers to try to launch a sneak attack from below?

Then Zell remembered that they had not accessed the tunnel by a normal service ladder, but through a secret tunnel. If he had to guess, he'd say that the ladder was a recent addition to the TV Station, added sometime during Timber's occupation. If that was true, then Galbadia wouldn't know about the connection between the tunnel and the TV Station and therefore wouldn't guard it.

(Makes sense, I guess.)

Zell picked up speed. If Ciel wasn't joking about using a bomb as her back-up plan, then it wouldn't be long before her position was totally overrun and she'd be given no choice but push the button and blow everyone up. She was an immensely powerful sorceress, true, but there were too many soldiers for her to possibly win this battle.

(Gotta hurry!)

A thunderous explosion directly overhead let them know that the battle was still raging. Ciel was still fighting, launching her spells at her enemies. Zell was unsure whether to cheer for her or not. On the one hand, she was crazy, hardly any better than Adel or Ultimecia. But on the other hand, she was a teenage girl who was trying to liberate her country from an invading force. It was hard for Zell not to side with the underdog.

It took them awhile, ten or fifteen minutes of solid running, but finally the aqueduct ended in a dot of light. Elated, Zell picked up his pace even more, joyful adrenaline easing the aches and pains in his muscles.

(We're out! We're out!)

Ahead there was a metal grate that was meant to seal off the aqueduct, but the bars had been cut open wide enough and tall enough to let a person through. Zell squeezed through the opening in the metal grate and emerged into the lush green forests of Timber. The massive water pipe continued onwards, heading deeper into the forest and out of sight.

Dax scrambled through the grate as well, fumbling with Xu as he did so. After a brief struggle, he managed to squeeze through the gap without dropping her. He stumbled out onto the grass and recovered his balance. Zell gave a quick glance at Xu and saw that she was unharmed. Or, at least, her condition hadn't worsened any during the escape.

(Now what?)

Zell scrambled up a nearby hill. The soft grass under his feet was slick, making him skid with every step. Tree branches pulled at his clothes and pine needles scratched his skin.

When at last he got to the top, he could see the entirety of Timber sprawled out before him, blue and rustic. Smoke rose from dozens of fires scattered about the city, but he could see that the fires were concentrated in one spot near the middle of town.

(The TV Station…)

He looked around, but didn't see any signs of a Galbadian pursuit. He was about to turn away and return to Dax and Xu when suddenly the horizon flashed white, blinding him for a moment.

Before he heard the explosion, before he felt the shockwave that nearly knocked him off his feet, before the ground rumbled so hard he thought the earth would tear itself apart, he knew what had happened.

In the heart of the city a brown mushroom cloud formed, reaching towards the sky.


	21. Chapter 21: You're a Fool

_**Chapter 21**_

_**You're a Fool**_

(Quistis)

From Garden's bridge, through the glass ceiling that formed a dome above Headmaster Cid's office, Nida and Quistis watched the dusty brown mushroom cloud rising from the center of Timber. Even from a distance, far beyond the city limits, Quistis could see the yellow flash of gunfire in the streets, smoke billowing from dozens of fires as they leapt from building to building, and a blue rush of G-Army soldiers, steadily marching onward towards the base of the mushroom cloud.

(… We're too late.)

Mireya had been right. By the time Garden was made aware of the impending attack on Timber, it was already too late to stop it. Martine had obviously mobilized troops well beforehand. It was likely—Quistis reasoned—that General Caraway had left standing orders in place for an assault on Timber, and the new president of Galbadia needed only to activate those orders, sending the troops into motion to carry out the planned attack.

(This is my fault.)

Quistis took a breath and shook that thought out of her head. The past could not be changed and was therefore irrelevant in this situation. The sequence of events that led to this moment—and the question of who bore the blame for this attack—was equally unimportant. The only thing that mattered was the present. At that very moment, there were hundreds of students in battle formations, spread out in various strategic locations within Garden. There were eight captive SeeDs, probably still being held in Timber or another location nearby. And there were three SeeDs—the members of the Contact Team—who desperately needed an evacuation from the city. Those were the facts that counted.

All of those students, both inside and out of Garden, were awaiting her next order. She had no time for self-pity or doubt.

(This is what it means to be a leader.)

"Nida, the intercom," she said, as calmly as she could.

Nida was holding the control column that guided Garden, a long white shaft ending in a point that reminded Quistis of an oversized tooth. When Quistis spoke to him, he snapped out of his daze and turned to her. He nodded. "Right," he said.

He flicked a switch on the column, which activated the intercom. A chime sounded on the bridge to let her know that the microphone was live.

"Attention, students," Quistis said. She could hear a muffled echo from below as the speakers placed around the school repeated her words in every room of the building. "Galbadia has attacked Timber. There is nothing we can do to stop the invasion at this point. Our priority as of now is to recover the Contact Team for immediate retreat. All students prepare for combat and await further instructions."

She exhaled through her nose, then nodded to Nida. He flicked the switch near his hand, shutting off the intercom. There was a dull thump from the speakers as the microphone went dead.

She was grateful that they had already taken the time to draw up the assigned battle stations during the trip down from Dollet to Timber. It saved her from having to give too many orders on the fly and risk forgetting something important. Now she could focus on the situation and plan the next move, rather than wasting a lot of time shuffling students around Garden.

The current battle plan was a modified version of the scheme they had drawn up when they first secreted the Contact Team into Timber, only this time, instead of staging most of the students near the front gate and the parking lot, the students were spaced out in defensive positions, waiting near windows, doorways, and any possible entrances into Garden. Many students were also placed on the balcony, and they would serve as the offensive unit, firing weapons and magic at the Galbadians and anyone else who threatened Garden.

The objective this time was to protect Garden from outside attack as it recovered the Contact Team. Quistis still had the eight captive Seeds in her mind, but looking at the situation in Timber and the thousands of soldiers Galbadia had deployed into the battle, Quistis realized that trying to recover both the Contact Team and the captives was perhaps asking too much. She still had no idea where the captives were being held, and Garden was not equipped to deal with a long-term attack against the bulk of the G-Army.

(We'll have to come back later for the captives.)

"What next, Commander?" Nida asked. He watched her expectantly.

Quistis tried her best to emotionally detach herself from the situation—as she imagined Squall did when he planned a battle—and focus on all the details, prioritize her objectives, and prepare for all eventualities. Now that the moment of battle had arrived, she found it was far, far harder to detach herself than she originally imagined. The sheer volume of possible scenarios and mishaps and surprises that could happen in the next half hour were staggering, and Quistis found herself buried under a mountain of possibilities. She had experience fighting in battles alone, as well as leading small groups, but taking charge of the entire Garden and pitting it against Galbadia was something she had neither experience nor adequate training for.

She felt a knot of panic tightening in her gut as calculated the number of possible tactical errors she could make in the next five minutes. She fought this panic down, struggling to only pay attention to the things that mattered. For safety reasons, Cid and Edea had retreated down into the basement levels to wait out the battle, leaving Quistis in sole command of the operation.

(We need to check on the Contact Team.)

(But we don't even know if they're alive…)

"Where's the radio?" Quistis asked. Nida pulled the big gray brick out of his pocket and handed it to her. She inspected it quickly and noticed something seemed off. She checked the frequency dial and noticed that it was on the wrong setting.

"How long has the radio been tuned to the wrong frequency?" Quistis asked.

The color poured out of Nida's face. "Huh? I-It shouldn't be."

Quistis ignored him and readjusted the frequency.

(I can't change the past. What's done is done.)

"Maybe I bumped it when I put it in my pocket," Nida said, panicking. "I don't know. Oh man. Commander, I'm sorry. I screwed up."

"It's done, Nida," Quistis said as she dialed in the frequency. "We're moving on."

She brought the radio to her mouth and pushed the "TALK" button.

"Contact Team, do you read?" she asked. She released the button and waited. Nida watched her, his lips pursed with anxiety. Quistis waited a few seconds. Each moment of silence felt like a weight pulling her down to the floor, growing heavier and heavier.

"Contact Team, respond," Quistis said, urgency creeping into her voice. She tried not to think of the giant mushroom cloud that was only now beginning to break apart in the sky. She tried not to notice the fact that the cloud was exactly where the TV Station used to be. She tried not to calculate the odds of surviving a blast like that.

(Please respond.)

"Contact Team!" she yelled into the radio.

She closed her eyes, defeated. She was wasting her time. Even on the off chance that the Contact Team had gotten clear of the blast, the city was absolutely swarming with Galbadians. If the Contact Team wasn't dead, they were definitely in custody. Quistis' failures as a leader had done nothing but mangle every step of the mission, and now it had cost her two of her best friends, as well as the entire mission.

(Xu… Zell…)

(I'm sorry.)

The radio crackled.

"Yo," Zell's voice said over the speaker.

Nida sighed in relief. His sigh quickly turned to nervous, tittering laughter. Quistis opened her eyes. The relief that flooded over her seemed to liquefy her muscles, making it difficult just to remain standing. She exhaled, trying to control her emotions as she brought the radio back to her mouth.

"Status report," Quistis said.

There was a pause. "Ah… well… alive," Zell said. "We're alive. How 'bout you?"

Quistis smiled.

(Yes, Zell. We're alive.)

"What's your location?" she asked. "We're coming to pick you up."

Another pause. "Er… is that such a great idea? Someone might be listening in, you know?"

Quistis cursed her foolishness. In her eagerness to rescue her friends and attempt to salvage as much as she could of this broken mission, she'd forgotten that the Contact Team was currently in a dangerous situation, trapped across enemy lines. Obviously, revealing their location over an unsecured radio was suicidal.

(How stupid of me.)

But she couldn't just leave the Contact Team where they were. She presumed that they were hidden somewhere in Timber, probably holed up in a civilian home or maybe a local business. They would be safe for a little while, but with all the Galbadians roaming about, it was only a matter of time before they started canvassing the houses, looking to make arrests. Nowhere in Timber was truly safe anymore until the army was gone, which may take days or weeks to happen. The Contact Team wouldn't hold out that long.

Then again, if they were in hiding in the city, there was almost no way that Garden could come and save them. The Garden couldn't achieve enough lift to go over any but the very smallest buildings in Timber, and she certainly wasn't going to plow through the buildings, so asking for their position was doubly stupid: not only did it risk drawing the Galbadians to the Contact Team's hiding spot, but there wasn't much Quistis could do to help even if she knew exactly where they were.

She brought the radio to her mouth again, about to order Zell to maintain radio silence and remain hidden when the speakers crackled to life again.

"Ah, hold on. One sec," Zell said. "I got an idea."

Quistis held the radio loosely in one hand, feeling the seconds slowly tick by. Southwest of Garden, in the city, the sounds of gunfire and explosions carried through the warm air, serving as a constant reminder of the chaos that continued to rage. It begged the question, if the Contact Team was safely holed up somewhere, then what were the Galbadians currently shooting at?

(Is it the sorceress?)

(More Timber rebels?)

Nida had turned his attention to the scene around him, guiding Garden in slow loops on the far outskirts of the city, keeping the school close to Timber without ever stopping. He watched the city, waiting to see if the Galbadians were going to send out a sally of armored cars to chase Garden away.

(Hurry, Zell.)

The radio crackled.

"I can—WHOA," Zell said. There was the sound of scratching and thumping over the radio. Zell yelped a couple times, then seemed to steady himself. Quistis could hear something that sounded like tiny rocks rolling down a hill. "I can see you guys. Tell Nida to turn um… about thirty degrees to the right and keep going straight. WHOA!"

There was more crashing and thumping and the sounds of Zell grunting and grabbing onto something.

(Is he… climbing a tree?)

(We better get over there before he breaks his neck.)

"Got it," Quistis said into the radio. "Hold your position, we're coming to get you." She released the TALK button and turned to Nida. "You heard him. Let's go."

"Roger," Nida said.

With great effort, he pulled back on the control column, balancing precariously on one foot as he leaned back and braced the column against his shoulder. Then he heaved the column forward at an angle, leaning slightly to the right to change Garden's current course. The school shuddered as it altered directions, then accelerated to full speed, hovering above the forests of Timber, heading towards the stretch of land that ran between the city and the southern coast of Obel Lake.

(Outside the city?)

She had so many questions. Why was the Contact Team outside the city? What happened at the TV Station? Where was the sorceress? Who was the G-Army still fighting? Did the Contact Team know anything about the whereabouts of the eight captive SeeDs?

But there was no way she could answer any of those questions until she had Zell and the others safely back in Garden. Nida had the school traveling at maximum speed, but it didn't go fast enough to sooth her anxiety. She tapped her foot nervously, watching the city pass by on the left-hand side of Garden. Her eyes scanned the woods, waiting to see any sign of Zell, Xu, or Dax. She hoped that they had enough sense to send up some kind of signal when they were close, to keep Garden from driving right past them.

Then, from the corner of her eye, Quistis saw a red smudge on the glass. At first, she thought that the sun was catching at an odd angle against the dome, but when she turned her head and looked, she saw that it was something else. Something familiar.

(Oh, no.)

Hurtling from the northwest at full speed, on an intercept course with Garden, was the hulking red mass of Galbadia Garden. Given their speed and angle, there was no mistaking their intent: they were going to engage directly with Garden, as they had done once before in the fields of the Centra Continent.

"Nida! Evasive maneuvers!" she commanded. "Turn on the intercom!"

Skillfully, Nida pulled and pushed on the control column, turning away from the collision course they were on, while simultaneously flicking the switch for the intercom. A soft chime let Quistis know that she was live on the speakers. She struggled for balance as the Garden shifted beneath her feet, then spoke.

"Galbadia Garden has entered the battle," she said. "Prepare for immediate attack. Cover the quad, the second floor balcony, and all windows. Remember their tactics from the last time we faced them and anticipate those tactics to be employed again. Brace for impact and repel any boarding parties."

She nodded to Nida, who nodded back. He shut off the intercom and turned to watch G-Garden approach. The enemy Garden had adjusted their course to compensate for Garden's change of direction, and once again they were on a collision course with SeeD.

(Do they mean to ram us?)

It wouldn't surprise her if that was their plan. That had been their primary tactic the last time the two Gardens squared off. A direct collision did about equal damage to both Gardens simultaneously, but the aggressive attacks and sudden impacts had forced SeeD to stay on the defensive, and gave momentum to the Galbadians.

Quistis snagged a pair of binoculars—left on the bridge for just such an occasion—and zoomed in on the red Garden to try to get a glimpse of their troop positioning. As she'd expected, the Garden had once again stationed paratroopers all along the outside the Garden, each one strapped into a large personal hovercraft. Long ramps were set up as well, so that motorcycles could jump from one Garden to the other. All the ramps had at least one motorcycle and driver set up and ready to launch.

The fact that Galbadia was using a familiar strategy worried Quistis somewhat. Last time the two Gardens fought, Balamb had emerged the victor. It seemed unlikely that G-Garden would try the exact same maneuvers twice, especially since they had failed last time.

(They're undoubtedly going to have new tricks this time.)

(We can't allow them to have the first move.)

Quistis' mind raced, trying to think of any way for them to shake off pursuit and prevent a head-on collision. While Balamb Garden was fast compared to, say, a car on the ground, it had no advantage at all over G-Garden. The two schools were identical as far as she could tell, with the same top speed and maneuverability. G-Garden had the same land and water capabilities as well, so she could not hope to escape by fleeing into nearby Obel Lake or back into the ocean

Furthermore, even at top speed Garden felt ponderous and slow, so there were no fancy maneuvers or feints that could possibly fool the Galbadians. Everything they did seemed to happen in slow motion, and their pursuers had plenty of time to react and compensate for any tricks Quistis might try.

(Wait, I have an idea.)

"Nida, new plan," Quistis commanded. "Turn us due north."

Wordlessly, Nida obeyed. He pulled back on the control column, then heaved it at a sharp angle, putting his whole body into the movement. The Garden jerked and began turning to the right. Ahead, G-Garden began making a sweeping turn as well, once more moving into position to intercept Garden's path. However, because the other Garden was moving in response to the first, there was a second or two of delay in their actions, which gave Quistis and the others a slight advantage.

The two Gardens grew closer together with every second, Balamb Garden moving north and G-Garden barreling down at them from the west, heading straight into their path in order to cut them off and collide. Quistis no longer needed binoculars to see the troops stationed all along the outside of G-Garden. The other Garden was absolutely swarming with soldiers, easily twice if not three times as many soldiers as there were people on board Garden.

(We don't stand a chance in direct combat.)

She waited for just the right moment, until the two Gardens seemed destined to collide, then she spun to face Nida and shouted, "Full reverse, now!"

Nida yelped in surprise at the unexpected order, then hopped to scramble around to the far side of the control column. He pulled and pushed it the same way as he always did, but this time facing in the complete opposite direction.

Garden heaved with a force Quistis had never felt from it before. She was wholly unprepared for as the school's thrusters to immediately turn to the opposite direction. Garden came to a sudden halt—throwing Quistis to her hands and knees on the floor of the bridge—then kicked into reverse, almost knocking Quistis over completely.

Once her body got adjusted to the change in direction, she got to her feet and looked at G-Garden. She smiled. Her plan had worked. G-Garden had been moving on an intercept course to block Garden, but the unexpected maneuver had caused them to overcompensate once SeeD changed directions. Now, instead of being on a collision course, G-Garden could only pursue Garden from behind, thus sparing SeeD from the full impact of G-Garden's intended attack.

Quistis had remembered, from back when Garden had first become mobile, that the technicians at Fisherman's Horizon stated that the thrusters on board Garden were omni-directional, meaning that they worked just as well forwards, sideways, or backwards. Although Garden was now facing the wrong direction, it was still traveling just as fast as it was when moving forward, and G-Garden couldn't close the gap.

"Nida, angle to the west," Quistis said. "Get us back on our original course."

"Aye, aye," Nida said. He pushed and pulled the control column, once again operating from the wrong side of the bridge, to compensate for the fact that they were going backwards.

In front of her, occupying almost the whole of her visibility, was the hulking red mass of G-Garden. Now its giant face seemed red in anger, frustrated by her deception. The soldiers lined up on the outside of G-Garden remained where they were, ready for the orders to attack. Although they were fairly close to SeeD, they were not yet close enough for their paratroopers or their motorcyclists to bridge the gap.

But Garden was not out of range of G-Garden's rifles.

Like a sudden hailstorm in the sunny weather, the outside of Garden became a symphony of pops and clicks as bullets ricocheted off the outside of Garden. Reflexively, Quistis ducked down at the sound of gunfire. A few bullets hit the glass dome that shielded the bridge. For a moment, Quistis marveled at the fact that the glass was able to withstand bullets, but then she remembered that the three Gardens had been built as shelters—of course they would have bulletproof glass on one of the most sensitive areas in the whole building.

She told Nida to turn on the intercom, then ordered the students to return fire, even though she knew that many of them already had. In front of the window, tiny yellow sparks began appearing on G-Garden as SeeD's bullets found their marks. A few unprotected paratroopers and motorcyclists took hits and fell from G-Garden, plummeting to the ground far below. As they fell, others rushed in to take their place.

But G-Garden's bullets weren't Quistis' first concern at the moment. It was the other Garden's tight proximity that worried her. G-Garden followed close behind—almost close enough for Quistis to hurl a rock and hit their pursuers—and that was the troublesome part. With G-Garden chasing right behind, there was no time to stop and pick up the Contact Team. G-Garden would be upon them the instant they dropped their speed.

(We'll have to do this quickly.)

Quistis brought the radio up to her mouth and pushed the "TALK" button.

"Contact Team, do you read?" Quistis said.

"Yup," Zell said. "I see you brought some friends too. And hey, why are you backwards?"

"Get ready for immediate extraction," Quistis said, ignoring Zell's comments. "We have no time for any delay. Do you understand?"

"Gotcha," Zell said. "We're ready and waiting. Can you see us yet?"

Quistis spun around on the bridge and brought the binoculars to her eyes. She scanned the tree line, expecting to see Zell hanging off a branch, but instead she found him on the ground at the far edge of a clearing. Dax was there as well, his massive muscular body impossible to miss, but she couldn't see Xu.

"I see you," Quistis said. "Be ready."

With that, she released the radio. She handed the binoculars to Nida and pointed out the position of the Contact Team.

"I see 'em," Nida said. He made slight adjustments on the control column to line them up better.

"Nida," Quistis said. "Hit the intercom."

He flicked the switch on the column. A chime signaled that the bridge had gone live.

"This is Commander Quistis," she said, speaking with as much authority as she could muster. "Rescue Team A, report to the front gate and prepare to cover the Contact Team as they enter the Garden. Also, make sure the Contact Team doesn't forget to radio in the very moment when they've safely been retrieved. We can't waste any time on the ground wondering if they're inside or not. Everyone else, brace for immediate impact. G-Garden is going to hit us hard with everything they have. We need to repel the initial wave as much as possible. This is it!"

She nodded to Nida and he shut the intercom off. Garden sped into the clearing, where Zell was now clearly visible with the naked eye. Behind him stood Dax. He was holding something slung over his shoulder, but Quistis couldn't quite make out what it was. It looked like a bag of some kind. Quistis ignored it for the time being.

She crouched onto the floor, lowering her center of gravity. She put both hands flat on the floor, bracing herself for the inevitable collision between the two Gardens.

Expertly, Nida angled the Garden's front gate so that it was almost directly on top of the Contact Team, then he yanked the control column, bringing Garden to a sudden stop.

"Here we go," he said. He gripped the control column in both hands and pushed it straight down into the socket. It slid into a metal recess and Garden descended to the earth.

There were two collisions. One was relatively soft, as Garden made contact with the ground. The second was terrible, as G-Garden plowed full speed into the stationary Garden. Even though she'd braced herself, Quistis was thrown backwards onto the floor, nearly losing her grip on the radio. She grunted in pain as her body hit the floor and slid two paces. Nida yelped and wrapped both arms around the control column in a desperate bear hug, narrowly avoiding being thrown completely off the bridge.

The vibrations of the impact continued to rattle through the school well after the hit. Instantly, the sound of the collision was replaced by the sounds of gunfire, magic, and shouting. Quistis gritted her teeth and pushed herself back to her feet. Heavy thuds reached her ears as motorcycles launched from G-Garden and made contact with the SeeD, their tires screeching on the metal frame of the school. There was a humming sound, like dozens of massive insects, as the paratrooper units lifted off from G-Garden and flew to engage with SeeD.

"We're in!" Zell's voice said over the radio. "Go! Go! Go!"

"Full speed ahead!" Quistis yelled.

Nida released his death grip on the control column and pulled it backwards as hard as he could. Grunting with effort, he pushed the column as far forward as it would go, leaning into it with his whole body weight. Garden rose from the ground and lurched forward—which in this case was reverse, since it was still pointed backwards. The sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air as Garden dislodged itself from the other.

Quistis turned around, hoping that G-Garden would allow them to escape, give up pursuit and break away. To her dismay, but not to her surprise, G-Garden powered up and continued its chase, following once more in Garden's shadow, endlessly dogging it and peppering it with near-constant gunfire. She saw that all the paratrooper units and motorcyclists had launched, leaving the surface of the enemy Garden comparatively bare.

Distantly—so distantly she could barely hear it at all—came the sounds of fighting from the quad and the second floor. She did not need to imagine very hard in order for her mind to conjure up the battle that was taking place down on the lower levels. She still remembered all too well the previous encounter between the Gardens, and the violence that had transpired back then.

"Nida, turn north, then east," she commanded. "Slowly, so that G-Garden can't try to cut us off."

"Roger," Nida said, adjusting the column to follow her orders.

She was glad that Nida never bothered to question any of her orders, especially this one. Honestly, Quistis had no plan whatsoever. General Caraway had promised to annihilate SeeD if they continued to aid the sorceress. If Martine intended to fulfill that promise, then there was a real possibility that he'd already ordered G-Garden to pursue SeeD indefinitely, never relenting until SeeD was destroyed. If that was the case, it really didn't matter where Quistis decided to go: a final confrontation was inevitable. And, judging on the respective sizes of the two Gardens, SeeD didn't stand a chance.

Garden completed its slow turn and now raced back east across the continent. G-Garden chased them, showing no signs of falling back or retreating. Quistis did her best to try to think of a plan, any strategy or trick that would tip the odds in SeeD's favor.

The only plan she came up with was to flee into the open water and drag out the battle for as long as possible. While in the ocean, she could repeatedly stop and start Garden, forcing G-Garden to engage in a long series of short battles. That would keep the Galbadians from unleashing their full power in one burst, and allow SeeD time to recover in between battles. Eventually, G-Garden would run out of troops to send into combat, and be forced to retreat. It would be a long, costly war of attrition—possibly taking days—but one that Quistis hoped they could win in the end.

The sickening sounds of battle raged on in other parts of Garden. She closed her eyes, unsure of what was expected of her to do in this situation. On one hand, a leader should be at the bridge, to command the troops over the intercom and direct the pilot where to go. But on the other, Quistis was a powerful soldier in her own right and her assistance could turn the tide of battle in Garden's favor. Keeping herself away from the front lines could cost lives.

(What would Squall do?)

The answer came to her instantly: Squall would fight, of course. Without hesitation, Quistis turned to Nida.

"Keep steady on this course," Quistis said. "Head into the ocean and keep going. If anything unexpected comes up, call for me."

Nida opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He nodded solemnly. "Good luck, Commander."

"Thank you," Quistis said.

She clipped the radio to her belt, next to her coiled whip. Already her heart was pounding in her ears in anticipation of the battle ahead. She went to the lift and rode it down to the Headmaster's office. Impatiently, Quistis leapt off the lift before it reached the bottom, her boots hitting the marble floor hard. She recovered and sprinted for the doors, throwing them open and running for the next elevator.

She furiously stabbed at the button to call the elevator and then, cruelly, she had no choice but to wait for it to arrive. The sounds of battle, gunfire, and screams continued to taunt her, mocking her helplessness as she waited. She would have given anything for a set of stairs at that moment, so she could keep moving forward. Even if she had access to so much as a balcony overlooking the second floor, Quistis would have strongly considered leaping off it, just to arrive downstairs quicker.

But the third floor was completely sealed off from the lower levels, accessible only by the maddeningly slow elevator. It dinged cheerily when it arrived and the doors slid open. Quistis threw herself inside and punched the button for the second floor. She didn't know where the fighting was hardest—the Quad or the second floor—so she went for the option that was nearest to her current position.

The elevator chimed again when it reached the second floor walkway and the doors opened. Quistis burst down the walkway in a fury. She unclipped her whip from her waistband and flicked it out to its full length. It cracked in the air and slithered about, like a freshly awakened snake.

Above her, one of the skylights had been broken. Under the ragged hole in the glass was a motorcycle lying on its side, its wheels spinning in slow revolutions, its engine still puttering and coughing smoke out of its exhaust pipe. A limp G-Soldier lay pinned underneath the vehicle, a trickle of blood running out the corner of his mouth. He was obviously dead, so Quistis ignored him and ran forward.

She emerged in the circular second-floor hallway, the sounds of battle guiding her onward. Almost every classroom she passed by was a snapshot of violence, the computers and desks mangled by gunfire and scorched by magic. G-Army soldiers were lying limp in most of the rooms, accompanied by students—far too many students—nursing injuries and carrying the wounded out to the hallway. Quistis checked each room to make sure that the fighting was over, then moved on. She wanted desperately to help care for the injured, but bringing an end to the fighting was her first priority. She could attend to the wounded later.

She burst into a classroom where she could still hear the sounds of active combat. The long back window of the classroom had been shattered. A handful of SeeDs were crouched behind computer desks, while a pair of Galbadian soldiers worked their way up the aisle, taking turns firing and advancing, both laying effective covering fire for the other as they moved closer, row by row, to the pinned-down SeeDs.

Before the G-Soldiers could react to Quistis' sudden appearance, she summoned a black ball of energy in her hand and hurled it at the nearest Galbadian. He leveled his rifle at her, taking aim for a fatal shot through her head, but he was a moment too late. The black energy struck him in the chest. His heart stopped instantly as the death spell did its work. His body twitched once, then went limp, collapsing to the floor.

Quistis dropped to the ground and crawled to cover behind a computer desk to avoid the gunfire as the second soldier turned his attention on her. Bullets ricocheted above her head, spraying her hair and clothes with bits of plaster from the walls and plastic from the computer terminal. But without his ally to cover him, the lone soldier was now hopelessly outnumbered.

As the soldier laid a steady stream of bullets on Quistis' position, another SeeD stealthily circled around and flanked the Galbadian. He popped up from behind a computer desk and fired his shotgun at the invader, killing him in one shot. Quistis glanced around to make sure that there weren't any more soldiers hiding behind desks.

(Next room.)

Quistis jumped to her feet and sprinted out into the hall. She paused and listened, waiting for the sounds of battle to guide her to her next stop, but the nearest gunshots seemed to be echoing from very far away. She stilled herself, trying to focus on the source of the sounds, but before she could pin down their location, they stopped. The hallway fell into silence.

A moment later, Mireya burst through the doorway that led up to the second floor balcony. She saw Commander Quistis and paused before her, giving off a cold—but technically formal—salute.

"Balcony is clear!" she announced.

"The hallways seem clear as well," Quistis replied.

The silence was broken by more and more shouts of "all clear" that echoed up and down the hall. A group of SeeDs began to emerge from the classrooms and the second floor balcony, gathering around the Commander and awaiting further instructions.

The radio at Quistis' belt crackled to life.

"Quad's clear!" Zell said over the radio. "How's the second floor lookin'?"

Quistis paused and unclipped the radio from her belt. "Second floor is clear. Are there any other points of contact?"

"Doesn't look like it," Zell said. "Second floor and Quad are our weak points, and that's where they focused the attack."

A cheer of victory rolled over the crowd of SeeDs. Only Quistis and Mireya refrained from joining in the celebration. Both of them maintained stony expressions.

(G-Garden is still chasing us. This was only the first wave.)

(One of many to come, most likely.)

"Good," Quistis said into the radio. "Gather any wounded and bring them to the infirmary. Follow Dr. Kadowaki's orders. Send a team to sweep all points in the Garden for any rogue Galbadians still inside. Understood?"

"Gotcha," Zell said.

Quistis clipped the radio back to her belt. "That goes for you all too," she said to the group of SeeDs. "Bring the wounded downstairs and check to make sure there aren't any more G-Soldiers hiding in classrooms."

Mireya nodded and turned to the others. "You heard the Commander," she said. "Let's move!"

The students scattered up and down the halls. Some of them returned a few seconds later, helping to carry a few wounded SeeDs. Quistis paused to check on their injuries, but they all appeared superficial—two minor gunshot wounds and a broken arm. Nothing life-threatening. Quistis cast some quick cure spells to help alleviate Dr. Kadowaki's workload, then allowed the wounded to go into the elevator and go down to the first floor.

She wandered up and down the halls, checking on wounded students, healing the ones with easier injuries, and encouraging them and congratulating them. Eventually, a pair of SeeDs ran down the hall and approached her.

"Second floor is clear, Commander," one of them said, snapping off a salute. "All enemies are neutralized."

"Good," Quistis said with a nod. "Help clear out any remaining wounded."

The two students nodded, then ran towards the balcony. Quistis took this time to head for the elevator. She pushed the button and waited for it to come up from the first floor.

When the elevator arrived, she pushed the button to return to the third floor. Nida hadn't summoned her on the intercom, so apparently nothing serious had transpired during the skirmish, but she still wanted to be on the bridge with him in order to plan out the next phase of the battle.

This time, the slowness of the elevator did not frustrate her. It gave her a moment to cool down, refocus, and steady her mind. She closed her eyes and in her mind's eye, she saw a brief flash of that instant where the G-Soldier had his weapon trained on her, just before her death spell finished him off. If he'd been a second quicker, or she a second slower…

She shook her head. It did no good to think like that.

(No point in worrying about what is over and done.)

(I survived. He did not. That is all.)

She arrived at the third floor, crossed Cid's office, and rode the lift up to the bridge. Nida was intently gripping the control column in both hands, making minor corrections to keep Garden going as straight as possible. He nodded at her when she stepped off the lift.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No change. G-Garden is still right on our tail."

Quistis turned and looked behind her. Most of the back window was obscured by the red wall of G-Garden. She muttered a curse, although she wasn't truly surprised.

(I didn't expect them to give up so easily.)

(Still, it would have been nice if they had.)

"Good news though," Nida said. "I've been watching them with the binoculars. They haven't yet prepared a second wave, so I didn't bother with any evasive maneuvers."

"Hmm," Quistis said.

She took the binoculars from him to see the situation for herself. She scanned the walls and ledges of G-Garden, searching all the places that had been swarming with soldiers only a few minutes before. The motorcycle launchers were vacant, and no more paratroopers lined the outside of the building. Nor could she see any officers outside either. In fact, Quistis was now aware that the constant peppering of gunfire had stopped as well. It seemed G-Garden was content merely to chase Garden and save their attacks for later.

(Best news we've gotten all day.)

"Do you think they're up to something?" Nida asked.

She lowered the binoculars. "Hmm… I don't know yet. Stay the course and keep an eye open."

"Roger," Nida said.

Quistis continued to gaze at G-Garden without the aid of the binoculars, her mind considering a number of possible options. The speed of the two Gardens was so evenly matched that, were it not for the rushing landscape below, it almost seemed like they weren't moving at all. Everything was quiet and still. She had assumed that Galbadia would at least ready a second wave of attackers, even if they didn't intend to launch them right away. Their uncharacteristic passivity unnerved her.

(I wish Xu was here.)

(Wait! She _is_ here!)

She unclipped her radio and brought it to her mouth. "Zell, come in."

"Yo," Zell said quickly.

"Send Xu to the bridge immediately," she said.

There was a pause. It was only a second, but it was just long enough for Quistis to realize that something had gone terribly wrong. A knot formed in her stomach before Zell responded and told her what she already feared.

"I uh… can't," Zell said, softly. "She's wounded. Sorry."

(Damn it.)

Quistis fought her emotions, trying to remain professional.

(What's done is done.)

(I have to focus on the present.)

"How bad?" she asked.

"Dr. K is checking her out now," Zell said. "She got… she got hit on the head pretty bad back in Timber. She hasn't woken up since. We don't know what's wrong yet."

Quistis stared into the distance, watching the trees rush past, but not truly seeing anything. Xu had been unconscious since Timber? What happened? How long ago? Was it because of the explosion, or did it happen before that? Was Xu…

Suddenly, self-awareness returned to her and she realized this was not a good conversation to be had over an open radio channel. Even with the short communication bursts and relatively vague details, the signal could still be easily picked up, if G-Garden or anyone else cared to eavesdrop.

"Understood," Quistis said. "And maintain radio silence after this."

"Gotcha," Zell said.

Quistis lowered the radio to her side, sick with worry. For a brief moment she thought that her anxiety had become so strong that it had produced a literal sinking feeling in her chest, until she realized that the feeling was Garden descending down the shoreline and dipping into the ocean. She turned around in time to see the front of the Garden hit the water with a splash. Ahead of her was nothing but the endless blue ocean.

(What do we do now?)

Without Xu around, the only person she could turn to for advice was the Headmaster. He'd already told her—well before Timber was in sight—that he wanted to stay out of the upcoming battle as much as possible. It was, he said, part of his way of testing her leadership abilities. He was probably still in the basement, waiting to hear news of the outcome.

The way Quistis saw it, the battle was now over. The entire mission, in fact, was now well and truly done. The Contact Team had withdrawn from Timber and SeeD was fleeing into the sea in disgrace. There was nothing left to do but pick up the pieces, shake off their pursuers, and decide their future. Surely the Headmaster would offer some advice for her now.

Before she could tell Nida to turn on the intercom so that she could ask the Headmaster to come to the bridge, she spared a glance back at G-Garden. Her eyes widened. G-Garden was falling behind, and growing more distant with every second.

(Did they have mechanical failures?)

But no, G-Garden had deliberately stopped at the shoreline and stood watching Garden leave, like a guard dog that has reached the end of its leash and is staring down nearby intruders. After a moment, G-Garden began to rotate in place, facing back towards Timber. Then it returned to where it had come from, abandoning pursuit and leaving Garden in peace. Quistis had to stop herself from gasping.

(What are they doing?)

(… It doesn't matter. We're safe for now.)

She was confused, but relieved. Her immediate concerns had solved themselves: G-Garden was not going to pursue them to the ends of the earth. While there would certainly be more battles to come, she and the rest of SeeD had been given a momentary reprieve. That was the best she could ask for, realistically. Hope gradually returned to the situation, and Quistis looked forward to the future with a measure of optimism she hadn't possessed a few minutes before.

"Nida, the intercom," she said. He nodded and flicked the switch. The familiar chime sounded on the bridge once more, but this time, Quistis brought good news.

"G-Garden is falling back," she said calmly. "The operation in Timber is over. Our part in the battle is over. Finish attending to the wounded. Salvage any useful tools from the defeated Galbadians and cast their bodies overboard. After that, you're all dismissed until further notice. Good work, everyone."

* * *

Xu had been placed on one of the beds in the infirmary. Because of her delicate condition, she'd been given priority over other students with gunshot wounds, burns, and broken bones. Most of them had been treated and sent back to their dorms to rest, freeing bed space for the truly serious cases, which, thankfully, were few.

A thin white blanket covered Xu's body—still dressed in her civilian clothes. Her short brown hair was messy and tangled on the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in and out softly in long draws. She could have been sleeping.

Quistis sat beside Xu on a wooden chair in the cramped little room. A window at the head of the bed allowed the sunlight to stream in. Occasional gusts of wind ruffled the white curtains. After all of her urgent tasks had been completed, Quistis had gone down to the infirmary to sit beside her friend, waiting for her to wake up. Quistis still wore her uniform, and the radio and her whip were clipped to her waist.

Dr. Kadowaki had treated Xu to the best of her abilities—using a combination of both standard medicine and para-magic—but there was nothing anyone could do at this point except wait. If Xu woke up—_once_ Xu woke up, Quistis said to herself—they could check on her condition again to determine what the next step should be. Until then, they could only wait and give Xu time to recover on her own.

Quistis sighed.

(It's all my fault.)

She heard the automatic door of the infirmary slide open. Quistis could hear Zell's voice asking Dr. Kadowaki where the Commander was, and the doctor directed him to the appropriate patient room. Zell, still in his civilian clothes from the mission, walked into the room. He gave a half-wave, half-salute to the commander.

"Heya, Quistis," Zell said, somewhat unenthusiastically. He looked at Xu and wrinkled his mouth, grimly. "How's she doin'?"

Quistis shook her head. "No change."

"I'm uh…" Zell said. "I'm here to give the status report for Garden. Also, I should give you my report too, before I start forgettin' stuff. You know, about everything that happened in Timber and all."

(Can't it wait?)

Quistis closed her eyes. She wanted to be left alone for a while, to brood over her mistakes, diagnose them, and then do whatever she could to make sure they never happened again. But on the other hand, she was also curious to know what transpired in Timber, how Xu got her injury, as well as the current state of SeeD.

"Go ahead," Quistis said.

Zell nodded. "Right. So… here's what happened in Timber."

He recounted the events of the past two days, including the terrible first impression with the sorceress Ciel and the rest of Forest Wolf, the sorceress' constant irrational behavior, her departure in the middle of the night to assassinate General Caraway, her return and the subsequent fight between the Contact Team and Forest Wolf.

His descriptions were often vague or muddled, and Quistis frequently had to stop him and ask for clarification. He also jumped around in the story, skipping back and forth between the beginning and the end without warning, and using pronouns without first establishing who "he," "she," or "they" were, which made Quistis hopelessly confused. At times she wasn't sure if there were three people in Forest Wolf, or as many as six or seven.

Zell continued on, talking about Xu's injury, the battle with the Galbadians, and then how Dax and Zell's escaped from Timber.

"… And then you guys picked us up," Zell said. "So uh. Yeah. That's my report."

"I see…" Quistis said. She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared out of the window, looking at the ocean and trying to process her thoughts. It had taken awhile and a lot of interruptions, but she'd finally managed to get a relatively clear picture of events from Zell's story.

(We never should have gotten involved with Ciel.)

(I doubted her from the beginning. I should have trusted my gut.)

(I should have told her no.)

"Thank you, Zell," Quistis said. Her voice was devoid of emotion. She turned to look at him. "And the status report on Garden?"

"Right," Zell said. "So, we got good news. No fatalities on our end."

That surprised Quistis.

"Really?" she said. She raised her eyebrows.

"Yup," Zell said, brightening. "The wave the Galbadians sent was kinda small, and we were able to bottle it up pretty fast. I don't think G-Garden really had their heart in it, you know? I think they were just tryin' to scare us off, not take us down."

(Not yet, anyway.)

(I'm sure they'll be back.)

"Yes, that's probably the case," Quistis said. "Go on."

"A lotta classrooms are pretty wrecked," Zell said. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually over his chest. "Most of them can be fixed in a day or so, but 11B was hit by a grenade or somethin' and is totally out of commission. Nothing left in that room at all. The tech team is on it, but they aren't hopeful, you know? We'll need to buy a bunch of new computers and stuff when we get back to Balamb, to replace all the busted ones."

Quistis made a mental note of that. She knew that it wouldn't take the Headmaster long to draw up an official inventory list and send it to her desk for approval. By rule, the SeeD Commander didn't technically need to approve any inventory or resupply requests—it didn't fall under her jurisdiction—but the Headmaster liked to keep her in the loop, letting her know what he was up to and how Garden's funds were being spent.

(Or maybe he just likes sending me paperwork.)

With a pang, Quistis remembered that inventory was Xu's job, and that Xu wouldn't be able to do anything to help until she recovered.

"Nida's scanning the other radio, tryin' to pick up some news," Zell continued. "But Galbadia is keeping reporters and stuff out of Timber, so really, no one knows what's going on in there. Not any more than we do, anyway."

"That's to be expected," Quistis said. "Make sure he keeps listening, in case the situation changes."

"Right," Zell said. He seemed excited that someone was finally giving him orders, taking charge of the situation. "And umm… Quistis?"

He lowered his voice and looked around, as if about to reveal a massive secret that he didn't want anyone to overhear.

"What is it?" Quistis said softly.

When Zell was sure the coast was clear, he leaned forward until his face was inches away from hers.

"I um…" Zell said. "Is there something goin' on? Between you and that Mireya girl?"

Quistis narrowed her eyes. "No. Why?"

"She's been… saying stuff," Zell said. "She's upset about something or another. I, uh, I heard that she's talking to people about getting you fired or somethin'. Dax said something to me a few minutes ago like that. I dunno if it's true but… figured I'd say somethin', you know?"

Quistis closed her eyes and sighed.

(It doesn't surprise me.)

"Did something happen?" Zell asked.

(A lot happened.)

(Too much happened.)

"It's… complicated," Quistis said. She waved a hand dismissively. "She and I have not been seeing eye-to-eye lately."

Zell straightened up and stopped whispering. "Oh, is that all?" He smiled. "Well, at least it's nothin' too serious. I was kinda worried there for a second."

"Don't be worried," Quistis said. "It's between me and her."

Zell, oblivious to Quistis' expressions and body language, smiled wider. He waved goodbye. "All right. Lemme know if you need anything else, Commander."

"I will," Quistis said. "Thank you, Zell."

Zell spun around and exited the tiny patient room. A moment later, the automatic door to the hallway slid open, then shut, and he was gone.

Quistis turned her attention back on Xu. Even though Xu wasn't awake to provide insight and advice, just being near her seemed to help focus Quistis' thoughts. She posed a silent question, both to herself and to the unconscious Xu.

(What should I do about Mireya?)

After the utter failure of the Timber mission, Quistis didn't think she'd mind being fired from her job. But while the thought of being relieved of duty—relieved of her burden—appealed to her, there were two immediate problems with that. For one, without her, SeeD was left without a Commander, at least until Squall and Rinoa returned. And for two, who would replace her? If Mireya was indeed petitioning for Quistis' removal, it was logical to assume that Mireya herself would try to take over. While Quistis was unsure about herself as Commander, she was even less sure about the idea of Mireya as Commander.

(In truth, I don't really know her at all.)

(Maybe she'd make a good Commander. I don't know.)

"What do you think?" Quistis asked Xu. Of course, Xu didn't respond, but asking the question aloud made Quistis feel a little better. She continued processing her thoughts.

Now that the battle in Timber was over—or, at least, SeeD's involvement in the battle was over—the situation was a little calmer, less urgent. Galbadia had promised to hunt SeeD down if they continued to aid Timber, but G-Garden backing off pursuit seemed to indicate that they weren't going to fulfill that promise. At least not immediately.

There were also the eight SeeD prisoners to consider as well. Quistis had been counting on General Caraway's indifference towards his captives in order to buy herself more time to form an effective rescue plan. She had assumed that the presidential election would take weeks, if not months, giving her plenty of time to come up with a solution. But now that deadline had come and gone, all in an instant. Galbadia had a president, and it was well within Martine's authority to order the SeeDs' execution at any time. For all she knew, he might have already done it, just to wound Garden out of spite.

Quistis shook her head, trying not to worry about that. She needed to assume that the SeeDs were alive until she had concrete proof otherwise. The alternative was unthinkable.

Along that same line of thought, Quistis wondered if President Martine would attempt to use his prisoners to coerce SeeD. Maybe that was Martine's plan from the start, and the reason why he didn't have G-Garden continue pursuit of SeeD. He might try to use the students as leverage to convince SeeD to disband or submit to the will of the Galbadians, thus effectively destroying SeeD without the need of any further bloodshed.

Quistis clenched her jaw, fearing that was his plan. In less than a minute, she had gone from knowing next to nothing about the prisoners, to being almost certain that they were doomed to be either executed or used to destroy Garden. In any case, their fate was bleak.

(I don't think I can save them.)

(Not without ending SeeD as we know it.)

She could turn the Garden around right away and return to Timber to try to look for them, but that would almost guarantee another fight with G-Garden. They had gotten lucky and not had any students killed in the last encounter, but only a fool would push her luck a second time.

She sighed.

Maybe, she thought, it would be better if Mireya took over command after all. Then all these hard decisions could fall on Mireya's shoulders instead. Then Quistis could be the one who was standing off to the side and sneering at Mireya's decisions, criticizing her failures, and insulting her judgment. It would be a welcome reprieve from all the stress and worry and self-doubt that Quistis had felt almost every day since becoming Lieutenant Commander of SeeD.

But Xu's words returned to her, as clearly as if she'd woken up and spoken them out loud.

("If you let other people have the power, you might not like the decisions they make.")

(Damn it, Xu. Even when you're asleep, you're wiser than me.)

Yes, it was true. There were a series of hard, painful decisions ahead. And yes, Quistis could not see an easy way around them. No matter what she did, she could not possibly escape the situation totally unscathed. Things had progressed too far, and too many things had happened in order for things to go back to the way they were without something being lost.

But all those hard decisions were in the short-term. If Mireya became Lieutenant Commander, then she would keep that position indefinitely, long after the current events were resolved. After all the tough decisions were over, what kind of leader would she be? What changes would she want to make to the school? How would she want SeeD to develop as it moved into the future?

Quistis didn't know much about the other girl, but she had caught glimpses of what Mireya stood for, what she valued. Mireya was fiercely loyal to SeeD, that much was unquestionable. But she seemed indifferent to the suffering of everyone outside the school. The plight of the people of Timber appeared to have no impact on her at all. She could not see beyond the immediate danger, and cared nothing for the potential reward that might come from helping Timber. To her, only SeeD mattered. Which sounded like a noble goal, until one realized that Mireya's ideas were selfish, cold, and short-sighted.

Under Mireya's leadership—Quistis had no doubt—SeeD would be more conservative, more pragmatic. But less idealistic. The Headmaster's dream of having SeeD become a global peacekeeping force would die under Mireya's leadership. Because world peace was a risk. It took sacrifices. It took selflessness, and genuine concern for the safety of others above one's own.

(SeeD would be run like a business, with her in charge.)

(Bent on making profit and avoiding risk.)

(Standing for nothing.)

(Defending no one but itself.)

Quistis set her jaw determinedly. She knew she didn't have all the answers, and maybe not even the majority of the answers. But she was willing to keep her job as Commander, if it meant that she could help keep the dream alive and preserve the Headmaster's goal for the future.

But if what Zell was saying was true, if Mireya was indeed trying to rally people against Quistis, then she would need to act quickly and gather support for her side.

(I need allies.)

"Thanks, Xu," she said, smiling to her friend. "I think I know what to do next."


	22. Chapter 22: Break Out

_**Chapter 22**_

_**Break Out**_

(Selphie)

At first, Selphie had felt a twinge of remorse, breaking into the train's engine room and knocking out the two G-Soldiers who were conducting the train, then stripping them down to their underwear and hurling them out a cargo door. At least Private Malgo and Corporal Hasberry had been clothed when Selphie chucked them out into the desert. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to leave a person both stranded _and_ naked in the middle of nowhere.

But when Irvine handed Selphie the second soldier's gear—the other uniform was too big for her, so Irvine took it—Selphie looked at what she'd been given and decided that she had, in fact, been too kind to the soldiers. The man's uniform was coated in a thin mystery slime that stank like a deep fryer. His helmet was damp with sweat and full of long, black hairs. His helmet visor was smeared and covered in fingerprints. The gloves squished when she put them on. The boots stank like cheese and rubber and were full of tiny rocks that cut into her feet. The shirt made her feel like she was neck-deep in a swamp.

(This is probably the grossest thing ever…)

"Irv…" she said frankly. "Does your uniform totally suck, or is it just mine?"

Irvine had already suited up in the uniform and gloves of the first conductor. He held the soldier's helmet in his hands, looked inside, then shrugged. "Mine seems alright."

Selphie sighed. "Great. FANtastic."

Unfortunately, all the other soldiers on the train had either been thrown into the desert or had come down with terminal cases of "being on fire," and therefore had useless uniforms. What Selphie was currently wearing was her only option available, since there was no way Irvine could have fit into hers and vice versa.

She found a long black hair running in a zigzag across the inside of the visor. She stuck out her tongue, suppressing a gag, and plucked the hair between her fingers. She tried to throw it to the floor, but it wrapped around her gloved fingers like a snake. She frantically waved her hand around, but the hair wouldn't let go. Finally, she wiped her glove on her pants and tried to forget about the hair.

"How close are we?" Selphie asked, turning to look out the window. About a half hour ago, the endless desert had begun to grow scraggly patches of grass, slowly growing thicker and greener as the train traveled south. Now when she looked out the window, she could see an unbroken field of healthy green grass, with numerous trees—almost enough to call a forest.

Irvine flopped down in the conductor's chair and put his feet up on the control panel. A monitor on the panel displayed the train's course as a long, curving blue line, and their current position as a bright green dot in the middle. Irvine glanced at the screen, took his cowboy hat off, and put the G-Soldier's helmet on.

"Shouldn't be long now," Irvine said. "We're makin' good time."

Selphie grumbled. "I shoulda waited until we were closer to Timber before I put this uniform on."

"Now, now, Selphie," Irvine said. "If we'd run into a patrol with you in that pretty yellow dress of yours, we woulda been in trouble."

"I can handle trouble!" Selphie said. "I can't handle this uniform though. I'm coated in a layer of death."

"It ain't so bad," Irvine said, looking her up and down appraisingly.

"YES IT IS!" Selphie said. "Feel this."

She pulled off one glove and tossed it into his lap. It landed with a wet slap and Irvine recoiled. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, examining it like it was a dead animal.

"Jeez… did the guy soak it in grease or something?" he said.

"He must've," Selphie said.

Irvine tossed the glove back to Selphie. She caught it easily, but a part of her wished she'd just let it fall to the floor.

"Sorry, Selph," Irvine said. "That is some real bad luck ya got."

She sighed, gritted her teeth, and plunged her hand back into the glove with a nauseated shudder. After this adventure was over, she would need a long, long shower.

(A shower of acid, maybe.)

She considered asking to switch gloves, boots, and helmets with Irvine, but decided against it. The shirt and pants were truly the worst part of it all; the rest of the uniform was just the icing on the horrible, rotten cake.

She watched out the front window as the green horizon rushed towards them. Somewhere in the distance was Timber, hidden amongst its infamous forests. According to the news that she had read back in Deling City, fighting had already broken out there between SeeD and Galbadia. And according to Martine and Corporal Hasberry, additional soldiers were already on the way to end the battle decisively in Galbadia's favor.

(Gotta hurry!)

Selphie bounced on her toes, watching through the glass as trees whipped past on either side of the tracks. The metal wheels made a steady _clack-clack-clack_ noise as the train rumbled and swayed to its destination.

It was hypnotic—the rhythm and the sound and the motion. The way the track extended out before them, guiding the train onward. The scenery around them was always changing, but also strangely still. When she was on a train, hours at a time could pass with her barely noticing. It was as if each and every train existed in its own pocket dimension, parallel to the world, yet infinitely far away from reality.

"Trraaain, traaaain, take us awaaay," Selphie sang softly to herself. Her helmet echoed her voice, like a miniature sound stage built only for her benefit. She stopped singing after that first line. Those were the only lyrics she knew for certain. The song, she knew, was actually a sappy love story of some kind, and wasn't really about trains at all. But the first line of the song appealed to her for obvious reasons and she had committed it to memory years ago.

(Someone should write a song about trains.)

Up ahead, Selphie could see the movement of something large approaching them. As it got nearer, she could see flashes of the long, metal frame of an approaching train. It was on the second set of tracks, so there was no danger of the two trains colliding, but Selphie still tensed up a little. She drew in a breath when she realized that it was another Galbadian military train, like the one they were currently riding in.

The train passed with a loud rush of engines. In its wake was a huge gust of wind that buffeted Selphie's train, making it sway on the tracks. She turned and looked out the side window and watched the other train until it vanished into the trees.

"Wonder where that train's goin'," Irvine said absently.

"Yeah," Selphie said.

In her mind, she conjured up the image of a train full of Galbadians, fleeing in fear from the combined forces of SeeD and Timber.

(That'd be cool.)

She turned around and looked out the front window again. High above the tree line, she could spy wispy tendrils of gray smoke rising into the sky. Every now and then, through gaps in the trees, she could catch glimpses of tall blue buildings in the distance.

"Looks like we're here," Irvine said. He took his boots off the control panel and leaned forward, scanning along the myriad of buttons and levers. "Uhh… which button slows us down?"

"The lever," Selphie said. She pointed at a gray bar on the control panel.

"Gotcha," Irvine said. He put his hand on the lever and gently pulled it back, easing the train down to a comfortable cruising speed. Selphie leaned backwards to compensate for the deceleration, not needing to grip anything as the train slowed itself down to a less suspicious velocity.

(Alright. Time to play it cool.)

This was Irvine and Selphie's second time pretending to be Galbadians. The first had been back when the pair had infiltrated the Galbadian Missile Base, trying their best to stop or delay the attack on Balamb Garden. No one had ever told Selphie if their efforts had contributed to saving the school or not, but in any case, they had successfully destroyed the missile base, striking a massive blow to the Galbadian military and reducing their long-range arsenal to almost nothing. If that wasn't a victory, Selphie didn't know what was.

Their time at the missile base had taught Selphie the importance of maintaining her cover story and acting like everything was under control, even in the scariest situations. Most Galbadians could be duped with a halfway feasible story and a couple of "yes, sirs."

But this time, her bluffing skills would truly be put to the test. Now, instead of just infiltrating a small military base, they were sneaking into an entire city that had been continuously occupied by Galbadians for almost two decades. If they made a mistake here, there was no backup plan, no rescue team coming to save them, and it was unlikely they'd ever escape the city.

The trees thinned out nearer the city limits—cut down by Galbadian logging—revealing the high blue wall that encircled the city of Timber. Now that they were closer, Selphie could see that there were at least a dozen places where smoke was rising from the town. Flickering red-orange lights dotted here and there on the horizon suggested that there were still active fires burning in the city.

(We're too late?)

The opening into the city was blocked off by a flashing black-and-white striped barricade stretched across the tracks. Soldiers manned the barricade, armed with rifles and military sabers. The wall around Timber was patrolled by even more soldiers, many of them staring down Selphie's train through the sights of their weapons, ready to open fire if the train didn't stop or slow down.

"Should we ram through?" Irvine asked, his hand on the accelerator lever.

She considered it for a moment. But even if the train managed to break through the barricade, survive the soldiers firing on it, and make it into the city, the Galbadians were likely to give chase. She and Irvine would then have to scramble and fight their way through all of Timber, and that wasn't going to help anybody.

"Be cool, dude," Selphie said. "Act like we're s'posed to be here."

Irvine nodded, then eased up on the throttle, bringing the train to a gentle stop just before the barricade. A handful of soldiers approached the train on either side. They bent forward as they walked, checking underneath the train for stowaways and other things that didn't belong under a train. Another soldier carrying a rifle in both hands approached the door leading to the train's engine room and knocked, waiting for Irvine and Selphie to open up.

Selphie wasn't the kind of person who planned things in advance. She knew that she would have to think of a clever story as to why they were the only two soldiers in the entire train. She trusted herself to come up with something spur-of-the-moment. In her experience, stories thought up on the spot tended to be more natural and easy to believe than stories that had been well rehearsed.

Nervous—but not to the point where she was panicky or jittery—Selphie hopped over to the door and yanked the heavy metal lever that opened it. The door swung inward and the Galbadian soldier stepped inside. He looked at Irvine and Selphie and nodded, then swung his rifle casually over his shoulder.

Before Selphie could say anything, the soldier asked, "You guys the second prisoner transport?"

(What does that mean?)

(I dunno. Say "yes.")

"Yup," Selphie said, deepening her voice a little. There were a handful of women in the G-Army, so there was no need for her to pretend to be a man, but it would probably help their case if she sounded older than a teenager. Her fake deep voice sounded phony to her ears, but she hoped that the helmet muffled some of the falseness out.

"You're early, you know," the soldier said. Selphie tensed up, trying to think of a good cover story.

"Is that a problem, sir?" she asked.

"Nah," the soldier said. He became more relaxed, and his voice was less formal. Selphie relaxed as well. "Just means you might have to wait awhile before you can leave. Lazy bastards in the guard battalion haven't prepped the prisoners for transport yet."

Selphie scoffed knowingly. "Sheesh. Figures."

"I know, right?" the soldier said. Selphie couldn't see his face, but she could hear the grin in his voice. "Hey, just a heads up: you guys ever transport SeeDs before?"

(SeeDs?)

Selphie stole a quick glance at Irvine.

"Uhhh… Nope," Selphie said. "This'll be a first."

"I hope you're ready for 'em," the soldier said. "This group's been nothing but trouble since the start. Four escape attempts in two days. Four! And they almost got out last time. Finally ran them down at the city limits. Lousy friggin SeeDs."

"Yeah," Selphie said, accidentally letting her voice return to its normal, higher pitch. "Stupid SeeDs!"

"What's the guard battalion doing?" Irvine asked, his voice conversational. "Sleeping?"

"I dunno," the soldier said. He shrugged. "If it were up to me, I'd just execute 'em all and be done with it. But the President wants them alive for some reason. I guess they have intel on the sorceress or something. Who knows?"

"Orders is orders," Selphie said, coldly. She still pretended to be on the soldier's side, even though the thought of him executing SeeDs made her hate him quite intensely.

(Wish I could throw HIM out of the train…)

"Yeah, true, true," the soldier mumbled. "Whatcha gonna do, eh?"

One of the soldiers who had went ahead to inspect the train returned and stood outside the doorway, looking in.

"Train's all clear," the outside soldier said.

"All right, you're good to enter," the inside soldier said. "You two know where you're goin'?"

"Uh, we could do with a refresher," Selphie said. "The inside of Timber's a bit new to us."

The soldier nodded, then angled himself so his body was facing the front of the train. He used his arm to gesture the directions as he spoke them. "Okay, straight on through the first four intersections, then left after the bridge, then right at the next junction."

"I think it's three intersections," the soldier outside said.

"Ah, whatever. Some number of intersections, then left after the bridge," the inside soldier said. "Next right, then keep going until the checkpoint. They'll know what to do with you there."

"Roger," Selphie said.

"Good talkin' with you two," the soldier said.

"Yeah," Selphie said.

"Thanks for the help," Irvine said.

With that, the soldier hopped off the train, his boots crunching in the gravel. He gave an "all-clear" wave to the soldiers at the wall, who hastily pulled the barricade into two halves, opening a gap wide enough for the train to pass through. Selphie closed the side door as Irvine nudged the accelerator, getting the train into motion.

"That was easy," Selphie said.

"It usually is with the G-Army," Irvine said. "Just smile, nod, and agree with whatever they say."

The train chugged under the archway and into the city. Though neither of them said it aloud, they both knew that their new priority was getting those SeeD prisoners out of Timber and safely back to Garden. And since that soldier had basically given them the perfect cover story—that of prisoner transport—all they needed to do was run with it until they were out of the city limits.

(After that, it's cake.)

The city of Timber had been ravaged. It seemed like no matter where Selphie focused her eyes, destruction was all she could see. There were no civilians out in the streets. All the windows in the buildings were closed, the curtains drawn. G-Soldiers moved up and down the roads in clusters, brandishing their weapons and knocking on doors. A group of five soldiers roughly pulled a middle-aged woman out of her house. She was screaming and yelling, until one of the soldiers crossed her jaw with the butt of his rifle, then she went limp. Selphie seethed as the train rolled by, heading deeper into the city.

A few blocks in, a military train had derailed and crashed into a nearby storefront. Soldiers were crawling over the wreckage like a swarm of ants taking apart a dead caterpillar. The soldiers were busy pulling out any useful items from inside the train and taking off any parts that weren't too badly beaten up. Down a narrow side street, three pairs of tall, purple, humanoid robots marched in a triangle formation, guided by a G-Soldier with a large remote control in his hand. Selphie recognized the robots as GIM52A's, a fairly recent model of robot introduced into the army a few years previously.

Further down, soldiers were gathering a cluster of Timber women into a group and running a weird device up and down their bodies. Selphie only saw that scene for a flash, and her eyes narrowed in confusion.

(What's going on?)

She wanted to stop and find out more information, but every interaction with a G-Soldier just increased their chances of getting found out. It was best for them to stay in the train and stay out of everyone's business. The SeeDs were their priority, she reminded herself.

Near the bridge the soldier had mentioned, an entire city block was engulfed in flames. G-Soldiers had become temporary firefighters, running hoses from nearby fire hydrants to spray water at the inferno. Judging by the trail of blackened houses behind the fire, it appeared that they hadn't had much success in containing the blaze so far.

The train rose up a little as it clattered onto the bridge. Massive blue steel girders rose in an arch to support the underside of the bridge. Beneath the girders, about three or four stories down, was a large train junction, currently jammed with dozens of Galbadian military trains. Soldiers filed in and out of the trains, with red-clad officers howling orders and pointing at supplies and artillery.

"Seems like the whole army's here…" Selphie said. She gulped.

"No kiddin'…" Irvine said.

When they crossed the bridge, Irvine leaned forward in his chair, looking over the control panel. "So how do you make this thing turn left?" he asked. He held his hands well above the control panel, as if he was afraid that pushing the wrong button would make the train explode.

Instead of answering him, Selphie reached over and tapped on a button on the control panel. Prior to the next junction, a section of the tracks moved to the left, directing the train's course northwards rather than continuing east. They made the turn, and then Selphie pushed another button to go right at the next intersection. The train turned once more, then continued deeper into the city.

They passed several more city blocks. A few buildings seemed to be intact, but they were in the minority. Selphie didn't bother to count, but it seemed like more than every other building had either been hit by artillery or burned by fire. Closer to the heart of the city, there were a lot more soldiers around, filling the streets in almost unbroken lines of marching troops.

After a few minutes, they came to the next checkpoint. Three robots—more GIM52A's—along with a dozen guards flanked another flashing barricade stretched across the tracks. Irvine eased down the accelerator and they coasted to a stop a short distance away from the barricade.

Once again, the soldiers at the checkpoint dispersed, some of them checking the outsides of the train, while an officer in red knocked on the door and waited to be admitted. Selphie hit the lever to let him in and the officer climbed aboard.

(Be cool.)

"Second prisoner transport," Selphie said dutifully. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to salute or not, so she decided not to do anything. "Here to pick up the SeeD prisoners."

"You're early," the officer said gruffly.

"Is that a problem?" Selphie asked, hoping that this conversation would proceed exactly like the previous one.

Selphie could feel the officer glaring intensely at her from behind his visor. "One more snotty remark like that and you'll lose a month's pay," he said. "Now, tell me why you're an hour early. For that matter, why didn't you radio in and tell us to expect you?"

"Er… radio's busted," Irvine said, suddenly becoming very stiff and formal. He straightened up in his chair, his hands placed on his knees.

"Is that so?" the officer said. He stepped up to the control panel and found the train's radio. Selphie silently hoped that the radio actually was broken, then cursed herself for not having the foresight to break it herself beforehand. To her great disappointment, the officer flipped a switch and the hiss of white noise came over the speakers. He dialed the radio to a certain frequency.

"Base, come in," the officer said. "Respond, base."

"This is base," a voice on the other end said.

"Cancel that, base," he said. "Carry on."

He flipped the radio off and the white noise died. "Seems fine to me," he said.

Irvine reflexively tried to rub the back of his head, but his hand smacked into his helmet. "It was uh… giving us problems before."

"Where's your CO, soldier?" the officer said, his tone rising towards anger.

"It's just us two on the train, uh, sir," Selphie said. She stiffened into something resembling a military posture. She'd forgotten how the G-Soldiers stood when addressing officers, and she didn't want to stand like a SeeD would, in case the officer was savvy enough to recognize that pose.

"D-District sent two rookie soldiers to transport eight SeeDs," the soldier said slowly. "And they didn't even bother to put an officer on board? The hell's going on here?"

"All the officers got sent to the front," Irvine said, talking quickly. "D-District's practically empty. We were the only ones they could afford to send. The rest had to stay back and guard the prisoners."

(Buy the story. Buy the story. BUY THE STORY!)

The officer stared at Irvine for a minute. Time passed, then he turned to face Selphie. Everything in Selphie's gut told her to cut with the act and just start fighting. Maybe if she took down the officer quietly, no one would notice he was gone. But they were deep in the city and surrounded by thousands of soldiers. If something went wrong, they wouldn't make it one block before the robots and artillery and gunfire turned her and Irvine into just another smoking crater among all the others.

(It's already gone wrong! We gotta fight!)

But before she could call up her magic or reach for her nunchaku—which she'd stashed in a little hidey hole under the control panel—the officer turned back to her and said, "… Fine. I'll let this pass."

(YES!)

"But you two are coming with me," he continued.

(NO!)

"Something stinks about all this," the officer said, "So I'm temporarily reassigning you two to cleanup duty in the city. I'll have the guys from the guard battalion escort the prisoners back to D-District for you. Understood?"

"We… we have to—" Selphie began to say, desperately fumbling for an excuse. She hoped that maybe Irvine would come up with an excuse, but he was silent.

"If D-District has a problem with you two being reassigned," the officer said, "Then they can take it up with me personally. In fact, I hope they do. I think I'd like a little face-time with the higher ups at that place. I've got more than a few questions I'd like answered. Now you two get off this train immediately and follow me, or you'll have a hell of a lot more problems than just D-District."

The officer stepped aside, to allow space for Selphie and Irvine to get off the train. Selphie shot a desperate glance at Irvine, who crossed his arms and refused to move.

(Are we gonna fight?)

It seemed like the only possible option. If Irvine and Selphie were separated from the train, then the mission to save the SeeDs would be ruined. Soldiers from the guard battalion would be put on the train and they'd bring the SeeDs back to D-District. Meanwhile, Irvine and Selphie would be trapped in the middle of Timber, and would eventually be revealed as frauds. If they didn't fight now, they were screwed.

Just before Selphie called on her magic, one of the soldiers finished inspecting the train and returned.

"Train's all clear, sir," the soldier said, standing just outside the door. "Still working on unloading the supplies."

(Great, now there's witnesses…)

"_Now_," the officer said to Selphie. "Off the train!"

It was too late now. Maybe they had had a chance to knock out the officer alone without causing much suspicion, but to take out the soldier outside the train as well was asking for too much.

(We're stuck.)

She whimpered a little under her helmet, louder than she intended. The officer didn't seem to notice or, if he did, he didn't say anything about it. Selphie walked around him and hopped off the train. The street was made of smooth blue-gray bricks, and her boots clicked when she landed. She turned around in time to see Irvine hop off the train after her, followed immediately by the officer.

The officer motioned to the nearest soldier. The soldier ran up to him and saluted.

"Tell the officer in charge of the guard battalion that this is his train now," the officer said. "Make sure he's got at least one guy who can operate a train, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" the soldier said, saluting. He broke off the salute and ran down the street. Selphie watched him go. If that soldier was heading towards the officer in charge of the prisoners, then wherever the soldier went would, logically, be where the SeeDs were being held. She watched the soldier head down a city block and then turn a corner and vanish. She frowned.

(Welp, that didn't help much.)

The officer faced Irvine and Selphie.

"Follow me," he said gruffly. He stepped in front of the pair and headed down the street, walking around the barricade. "You know, I coulda let you two off easy. I coulda put you on a guard post on the edge of town where nothing's happening. But then you had to go and piss me off, so it's lookin' like hard labor for the two of you."

(Aww…)

He turned a corner around an empty cafe. Ahead, a building had been hit by a mortar shell. The front wall had collapsed, spilling bricks and rubble onto the street and across a railroad track that ran down the middle of the road. Several G-Soldiers were picking through the wreckage, loading it into wheelbarrows by hand and hauling the full wheelbarrows to a large pile a block further down the street. Two GIM52A's stood sentry over the operation, silently watching and waiting.

"Oh, so we're gonna help clean up the city?" Selphie asked.

(That's pretty nice of them.)

"Psh," the officer said. "Only reason we're bothering picking this up is because we need that train track cleared up so we can use it. Just move enough so a train can get through and leave the rest. Got it?"

(I take back everything. These guys suck.)

"Got it?" the officer repeated loudly. A couple of soldiers nearby turned and looked, then quickly got back to work.

"We got it… sir," Selphie said.

"Then get to it!" the officer shouted.

Selphie hesitated for a moment, once more considering the wisdom of just taking this jerk out and dealing with the consequences. But before she could figure out a plan, Irvine moved past her and climbed atop a pile of the rubble. He didn't bother speaking to anyone. Instead, he bent over, picked up a brick, and tossed it into a nearby wheelbarrow. He repeated the process a few times. Sighing, Selphie climbed the rubble and joined him.

Selphie grabbed a pair of bricks, one in each hand, and chucked them into the wheelbarrow. The bricks were heavy and slick with dust. She moved slowly and mechanically, but nonstop. She picked up another pair of bricks, shuffled over to the wheelbarrow, deposited the rubble, then returned to the pile. After a few minutes, she stole a glance from the corner of her eye. The officer was still standing there, his arms crossed and a snarl visible on his mouth beneath his visor.

(Jeez, is he gonna watch us the whole time?)

"Think of something, Irvy," Selphie whispered as they passed by each other.

"I'm trying," Irvine said. He picked up a brick and tossed it into the wheelbarrow, where it clunked against the metal sides. Selphie chucked another brick after his. After a few more minutes, their wheelbarrow was starting to get full, so Selphie decided to take this time to move it to the dumping area.

She clambered down the pile of rubble and grabbed the wheelbarrow by its two wooden handles and lifted it with a grunt. She rolled it awkwardly down the cracked, uneven road towards the other pile of rubble. All the while, her eyes flicked left and right, looking for any gaps in the security, places she and Irvine could possibly sneak away, or things they could use as distractions. But everywhere she looked there were more soldiers, and the officer down the street still refused to budge, watching her every movement.

(We gotta fight. We got no choice.)

She reached the dump off pile and, with a long grunt, she upended the wheelbarrow and emptied all the bricks onto the pile. She lowered the wheelbarrow back down and spun around, quickly pushing her way back to the first pile, setting the wheelbarrow down, and climbing atop the pile with Irvine.

"I got a dumb idea," Irvine whispered to her. He tossed a brick into the wheelbarrow.

"I like dumb ideas," Selphie said.

"Then you'll love this one," Irvine said.

He picked up a brick in one hand, but instead of casually tossing it into the wheelbarrow like he'd been doing so far, he held it in one hand and carried it all the way down the heap of rubble. While he did this, he raised one hand to his forehead, as if he was adjusting his helmet. The gesture wasn't conspicuous enough to raise any red flags from the officer who was watching them, but Selphie recognized that he was focusing his energy on a spell or an ability of some sort.

(Hope this works…)

She continued working, keeping half an eye on Irvine, and half an eye on the bricks. She expected to see a glowing light as a spell took shape, or maybe feel a change in energy as some sort of ability kicked in. She braced herself for action, ready for whatever he was planning. But there was nothing. After a moment, Irvine put his hand down, dropped the brick into the wheelbarrow, and returned to Selphie.

"That's it?" Selphie asked, still trying to look busy.

"Give it a sec," Irvine said.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the two GIM52A sentries came to life, circuits popping and machinery humming. They straightened up to their full height, locked their arms into battle positions, and began striding down the road, taking big, lumbering steps, their eyes glowing dully.

"Whoa! Whoa! WHOA!" one of the Galbadians next to Irvine said. His cries got everyone's attention, and instantly all work ceased as all the G-Soldiers gawked at the rogue robots.

All around, confusion and panic started to set in. The officer who'd been monitoring Irvine and Selphie dodged around the robots and ran to the soldiers.

"Who the hell's got the remote for those things?" the officer yelled.

"I do!" a smaller soldier yelled. He held a large gray control panel in his hand, with a long antenna poking out the top. He mashed every button, twisted every knob. "They're not responding, sir!"

"Damn things are having a meltdown," the officer grumbled. "Stupid machines."

The robots continued to the end of the road, and when their forward progress was stymied by a fork in the road, they both turned to the right, down the same street where the soldier had previously gone when he went off to alert the officer in charge of the SeeDs.

"You two!" the officer yelled, pointing at Irvine and Selphie. "Come with me! The rest of you, stay alert!"

Without waiting for a response, the officer gave chase after the two robots. Irvine followed a few steps behind. Confused, Selphie scrambled down the pile of rubble and caught up with Irvine as he ran.

"What did you do?" Selphie asked.

"No Encounters," Irvine said. "Only thing I could think of."

(No Encounters works on robots?)

Underneath her helmet, her face twisted into a frown as she thought back in time. She knew that No Encounters was an ability that Irvine's Guardian Force, Diablos, possessed. It was supposed to send away monsters so that the person junctioned to Diablos wouldn't have to fight, but did machines count as monsters? Selphie couldn't be sure, but apparently they did. Whatever the Galbadians did to make the GIM52A's have a small amount of intelligence must have also made them susceptible to Diablos' abilities.

(Neat.)

As they rounded the corner in their pursuit, they saw that Irvine's "dumb idea" was having a rather massive effect in the surrounding area. The range of Diablos' ability was wide enough to catch all the robots within a radius of several blocks. Up and down the streets, GIM52A's were marching away from Irvine, while desperate handlers chased after them and mashed unresponsive buttons on their remote controls. A few soldiers tried to grab hold of the robots' legs and slow them down, but the machines were too powerful and lumbered on relentlessly. Some tried to bar the robots' paths with rubble, but the robots merely climbed over all their obstacles and continued forward.

The officer paused in the middle of a four-way intersection, looking down the streets and clutching the sides of his helmet in both hands. Irvine and Selphie stopped behind him.

"The hell's going on?" the officer yelled to no one in particular.

There were soldiers and guards everywhere, but every last one of them was focused on the chaos caused by the runaway machines. So no one but Selphie noticed the glowing black sphere of a death spell forming in Irvine's hand. When it was finished, he tossed it underhand, casually, like pitching a baseball to a child. The spell hit the officer in the back, and he crumpled to the ground silently.

"Poor bastard," Irvine said, with mock pity. "One of the robots must've trampled him in all this here confusion."

He turned to Selphie. His face was still obscured by his Galbadian helmet, but judging from his pose and his tone of voice, she could tell that he was grinning cockily.

"Guess we'll be goin' back to the train now, eh?" Irvine said.

"WHOO HOO!" Selphie said, thrusting a fist in the air. "Irvy, you're ten kinds of brilliant."

"Don't be celebratin' just yet," Irvine said. "We still gotta snag the SeeDs and get outta town."

"Right!"

With the frantic shouts of desperate soldiers and the stomping of robots filling the air, Irvine and Selphie ran back to the train unnoticed, hoping they weren't too late. Thankfully, when they retraced their steps to the checkpoint, they found the train still stopped by the barricade. One of the guards turned around and, somehow, managed to recognize the pair underneath their uniforms.

"Where've you two been?" he asked. "The train was just about to leave without you."

"Sorry," Selphie said. "We were called off to do… something."

She froze, hoping that answer would be good enough to convince the soldier.

"Yeah, whatever," the soldier said. "Hop on board."

Selphie let out a whoosh of air, fogging up the inside of her helmet.

(With pleasure!)

Eagerly, the two scampered on board the train, stepping back into the train's engine room. Inside, another G-Soldier was at the control panel, firing everything up and getting it ready for transport.

"Just in time," he said calmly. "I was almost ready to leave."

"Are all the SeeDs on board?" Irvine asked.

"Yup," the soldier said. "We're finally getting out of this mess."

"The sooner the better," Irvine said.

"No kidding. Frickin' robots," the soldier said.

With that, the soldier engaged the final switches to activate the train. It rumbled to life. Although they were still far from salvation, Selphie was instantly calmed by the sound and feel of the train's energy. The soldier changed the gears into reverse and backed away from the checkpoint, retracing the path towards the city limits.

Selphie had an urge to eliminate the soldier now, while he was alone and distracted, but she didn't see any point in causing havoc until they were out of the city limits. Irvine seemed content to wait as well. He stood off to the side, keeping one eye on the soldier and another on the door. Selphie casually eyed the hidey-hole where she and Irvine had stuffed their weapons. So far, no Galbadians had noticed the hiding place.

(Lucky so far…)

Irvine leaned up against a wall and put his hand to his forehead again, shutting off the No Encounters ability. In a few moments, the robots would once again begin responding to their masters, and Galbadian technicians would undoubtedly be called in to figure out why several blocks' worth of machinery had all gone haywire at once. But even the smartest techs would never be able to piece together this mystery. Galbadia had almost zero knowledge of magic, Guardian Forces, or passive abilities like No Encounters. They would be utterly stumped.

But Selphie was stumped too. Why were the robots affected by a spell that should only influence monsters?

(Maybe robots are secretly monsters?)

It was a possibility. While she did have extensive knowledge of para-magic and Guardian Forces, she had to admit that the details of Galbadian technology eluded her. She had no idea what processes went into making them, piloting them, and powering them. She wouldn't be surprised if the answer involved merging machines with monsters somehow, in order to give the cold, lifeless steel a type of sentience. In her experience, robots often did behave more like monsters than anything else, so the explanation made a kind of sense.

Traveling in reverse, the soldier conductor brought the train back along the exact same route Irvine and Selphie had taken to get in. He followed the course along the monitor, flipping the appropriate levers to make the train turn at the appropriate intersections. The three waited in the engine room for a while. They has a brief pause at the city walls, but since they were leaving—not entering—the soldiers guarding the barricade didn't bother to do an inspection. The conductor waved at one of the soldiers at the barricade, who in turn ordered the barricade to be opened. When the path was cleared, the conductor sped up and exited Timber. He locked the accelerator to cruising speed.

"And now you sleep," Selphie said, dropping the soldier to the floor with a sleep spell. She pulled the soldier's limp body out of the way, then reached into the hide- hole and took out her nunchaku and Irvine's shotgun. Irvine broke open his shotgun and pulled out the red shells that were loaded in the barrels. He pulled out a pair of black shells that Selphie recognized and popped them into the barrel and closed the gun.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yup," Selphie said. She spun her nunchaku around and caught them with a dramatic flourish. Irvine turned and headed out of the engine room.

During the train's stay at Timber, all the supplies had been offloaded by soldiers, leaving the train almost totally empty. The car behind the engine room was bare, except for a few chunks of wood on the ground and a considerable amount of dust on all the surfaces. It annoyed Selphie that she and Irvine had unintentionally helped Galbadia deliver supplies to aid their war effort, but there was nothing she could do about it now, so she let it slide.

Near the back of the train, the two opened a door to a car and found a gang of at least a dozen Galbadian soldiers and one officer standing close guard over eight SeeDs, who were still in Garden uniforms. The SeeDs' identities were obscured by black cloth sacks tied over their heads, and their hands and feet were tightly bound with thin, durable ropes behind their backs. They had been clumped together in a corner like bags of wheat. Judging by their uniforms, Selphie counted four girls and four guys.

Irvine continued to act casual, making a big show of counting all the SeeDs.

"This all of 'em?" he asked.

"Yup," one of the soldiers said in a thick regional accent. "We've been keepin' a tight lock on 'em. They's runners, they are."

"I hope they got their junctions up," Irvine said, speaking loudly to both the Galbadians and the SeeDs. He dramatically pulled out his shotgun and aimed it at the soldiers. "Or else this is _really_ gonna suck for them."

Selphie closed her eyes and tried to press her hands to her ears, but forgot that she was still wearing her helmet, making the effort useless. The soldiers had just enough time to gasp in surprise before Irvine cocked his shotgun and unloaded two quick rounds of Dark Ammo into the room. The shells exploded from his rifle, trailing billowing black clouds behind them as they flew, like smoke from a rocket.

The ammunition was similar to teargas or a smoke bomb, but powered up with Garden magic. Each shell was infused with the nastiest status magic known to the world. As the black smoke filled the car and touched the soldiers, it seeped in through their uniforms, through their skin, and into their bodies. The effects were random and varied from soldier to soldier. Some began coughing and retching, dropping their weapons and doubling over in pain. Some went berserk with uncontrolled fury, wielding their rifles like clubs and beating anything and everything that moved—mostly other soldiers. Some screamed that they had gone blind, and stumbled around with their arms stretched out before them. And a couple simply passed out, falling to the floor and going still.

Unfortunately, the clouds had hit a few of the unprotected SeeDs as well. Those who didn't have the proper junctions ready to guard against status magic suffered along with the soldiers. They coughed, gasped, or struggled furiously against their restraints, but bound as they were, they couldn't do any real harm to themselves or each other. The status magic was awful to experience, but not fatal if treated quickly.

With all the soldiers in the car incapacitated to some extent or another, it was a mindless, simple task to unlatch the cargo door on the side and, one by one, hurl them all out into the forests of Timber. Some battled furiously despite their ailments, but either Irvine or Selphie would clock them upside the head to stun then before tossing them out. They saved the unconscious soldiers for last, then dragged those last to the edge and chucked them into the forest.

In less than a few minutes, the entire car was cleared and only SeeDs remained.

Selphie turned her attention back to the SeeDs, a couple of whom were still writhing under the effects of Irvine's Dark Ammo. She attended to those ones first, casting quick Esuna spells on them to clear up their maladies. They calmed down and relaxed as the healing white magic nullified the effects of the status ammo. Once everyone was cured, Selphie pulled off their blindfolds while Irvine set to work undoing their restraints.

"You're pretty short for a G-Soldier," one of the female SeeDs said to Selphie, staring distrustfully at her.

"Huh?" Selphie asked. "Ohhhh, right. The uniforms."

Selphie pulled off her helmet, taking a deep breath of the relatively fresh air inside the train. She's been stuck in that sweaty, nasty helmet for so long that she'd almost forgotten what clean air smelled like. She dropped it to the floor, where it clunked and rolled off to a corner.

"We're SeeDs too," she said. "And we're your rescue team!"

"So they finally sent us a rescue team," one of the guys muttered as Irvine undid his arm restraints. "Took 'em long enough."

"Yeah, well," Irvine said. "Don't get too excited just yet. We're uh… freelance rescuers at the moment. Garden didn't send us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" a male SeeD asked.

"It means no one's waitin' for us back at Garden," Irvine said. "We're on our own here. Is that all ya'll? There aren't more anywhere?"

"Not that we know of," a female SeeD said. "But then, we haven't heard much news since they captured us."

Selphie hoped that was all the SeeDs that Galbadia had managed to capture. But then she remembered that the Galbadian at the checkpoint at the city perimeter had said that they were the second prisoner transport, which implied that there was a first. She wondered if there were more SeeDs on that first train, or if it was just Timber prisoners.

(Should we go after the first train and try to rescue them?)

Her first instinct was to say, "yes, of course." But then she looked at the eight rescued SeeDs. They were beaten, exhausted, scarred, and none of them had their weapons. They weren't in any shape to mount an attack on D-District prison. And to tell the truth, Selphie herself wasn't doing much better than they were. She and Irvine had ridden across the entire Galbadian continent, not stopping for anything. It'd been almost forty-eight hours since she'd slept or eaten and she was nearing the end of her endurance as well.

The logical part of Selphie's brain kicked in, and she realized that going anywhere near D-District would probably just end up with them all getting captured again. Their only real choice was to run, recuperate, and hope that there weren't any SeeDs or other high priority people on that first prison transport.

(We gotta play it smart.)

Once all the SeeDs were freed from their bonds, Irvine stood up and rested his shotgun on his shoulder. "Time to change course," he said.

Selphie looked at the SeeDs. "You guys just rest up, okay? We got this covered."

The pair made their way back up the train, one car at a time, until they arrived back at the engine room. Selphie almost tripped over the sleeping guard, then hastily picked him up and chucked him out the side door. Then she returned to the control panel. According to the map, they were still a little way away from the next available train junction, which gave them some time to think about where their next stop should be.

Now that all the excitement had died down, Selphie suddenly remembered that she no longer needed the uniform. She ripped it off her body like it was on fire, and tossed it to the floor. She had her dress on underneath it, so she didn't have to expose herself to Irvine, but he watched her with great interest anyway.

(Perv.)

When every last piece of that uniform was off, Selphie ran her hands up and down her arms and legs, trying to wipe off the layer of sweat and grease that still clung to her. No matter what she did, she still didn't feel clean.

(Ugh.)

She pulled her boots from the hidey-hole and stuck them on her feet. Irvine reached down and grabbed his cowboy hat, then took off his helmet and put on his hat. It was odd, seeing Irvine with his hat on but otherwise wearing all Galbadian clothes.

"So then," Irvine said. "Where to next?"

Before she could answer, one of the SeeDs—a tall girl with brown hair that fell to the base of her spine—stepped into the engine room and looked around.

"Howdy," Irvine said with a grin.

Selphie ignored the girl and focused on Irvine.

"Back home to Balamb, I guess," Selphie said, answering his question. She hadn't put much thought into this next step.

"Garden's not there," the brunette said. "They went mobile when we joined forces with Timber."

"Well, uh, we can still wait in the city for them to come back, I guess" Selphie said, unsure.

"I dunno," the girl said. "I think we should stay away from the island for now. Galbadia's going to come looking for us, and that will be one of the first places they check. And once we're on the island, we're stuck there. There's nowhere to run or hide if the G-Army comes."

Irvine shrugged. "The lady's got a point. Several points, actually."

Selphie scrunched up her face in thought. "Hmm…" she said.

(Well then, where do we go?)

They needed to go to a place outside of Galbadian control, that much was obvious. It also needed to be connected to the rail system, since they were using a train to get around. And it had to be inconspicuous, where a group of SeeDs were unlikely to get noticed.

Her first thought was to go north to Dollet, but that would force them to travel all the way across the continent and who knew how many patrols were roaming the countryside. Furthermore, Dollet was pinned between the canyon and the ocean and, like Balamb, left no place to run or hide if Galbadia came calling.

"Fisherman's Horizon?" she suggested. If they turned the train around soon and bypassed around the outside of Timber on the minor train routes, FH wasn't actually that far away. They were less likely to hit a patrol on that route, and FH was connected on the far side to the continent of Esthar, giving them a place to run in case the G-Army was on their tail.

"Sounds good to me," Irvine said. The brunette nodded as well.

"Alright!" Selphie said. "FH, here we come!"


	23. Chapter 23: Disgraced

_**Chapter 23:**_

_**Disgraced**_

(Seifer)

Seifer quickly learned that "boring" was the word that best described prison.

Especially D-District Prison, a three-pillared Galbadian monument of steel constructed in the middle of the desert. Filled with empty cells and surrounded by only sand, D-District was the closest thing to hell that Seifer could imagine.

He sat on the hard metal floor, staring between his bent knees at the opposite wall, which was the same color, material, and design as the floor itself. His shirt and gloves sat in a heap in the corner while sweat ran down his brow. In his mind, he retraced the events of the past few days, reliving the past in order to ease the monotony of the present.

After a brief stop at Deling City, Galbadia Garden—along with all the people locked in its detention center—traveled southwest to D-District prison. The guards outside the detention center made every effort to ensure that no news of the Garden's destination ever reached Seifer, but he was still able to figure out where they were going just through simple common sense. If they weren't going to kill him right away, it was obvious that they were going to send him to D-District, their most infamous prison.

(Even a moron coulda figured that out.)

He tried to rally the other students who were trapped in the detention center with him and organize a massive breakout. He counted about a dozen other people and he knew that if they all fell in behind Seifer, there was a decent chance of him actually escaping, if everything went to plan.

But the others scoffed at his efforts to escape and ignored his words. They had no reason to help him, or to try to mount an escape. They were G-Garden students being punished for minor infractions of the rules. They would only have to endure a few days of confinement and then they would go back to their normal routines at school. Seifer was the only outsider among them, the only political prisoner, the only one with an uncertain future. Furthermore, as he carried nothing with which to bribe or threaten the other students, he couldn't effectively coerce their help either. They had nothing to gain by aiding him and everything to lose.

So he waited. He figured his best chance to escape would be during the transfer between G-Garden and D-District. For the time being, he resigned himself to playing the good, cooperative prisoner, hoping to lull the guards into complacency before he seized his chance.

It was maddening. It wasn't long before he was pacing the cell like a caged lion and muttering to himself. He knew he was making the guards uneasy with his actions, but he'd stopped caring. If he didn't move, if he didn't grind his teeth and curse all Galbadians under his breath, he was sure that something in his brain would overheat from pure rage and explode, killing him instantly.

(I ain't cut out to be a prisoner.)

(Don't got the patience for it.)

When the Garden finally came to a stop, Seifer stood in the corner of the room, clenching and unclenching his fingers, readying himself for a battle. During his confinement, he'd formed only the rough outlines of a plan. He was going to try to break free of his guards and find Headmaster Martine and hold him hostage. With Martine in his grasp, Seifer hoped to be able to negotiate his freedom, or at least buy himself enough time to escape under his own power. He figured he'd improvise the details as he went along.

But to Seifer's dismay, some other nameless man in a ridiculously outdated black G-Army uniform with large brass buttons running down the front and frilly yellow epaulets on either shoulder came stomping into the detention center.

He was a balding, pompous old bastard with squinty, watery eyes and a weak jaw. Seifer didn't know him, but he got the feeling that this man deserved to be punched in the face. Repeatedly. The old man held his nose up in the air as if the mere scent of rule-breaking students was offensive to him. He then spoke, offering to reduce the sentence of any detained G-Garden student who helped in the effort to transport Seifer into D-District Prison.

Before Seifer could even think, he had three burly students on top of him. In a flash, he was face-first on the floor, with one student pinning his arms behind his back and another driving a knee painfully into Seifer's shoulder blades. He struggled and cursed, but the wide glass door opened and more students flooded in, tightly strapping his arms behind his back and binding his legs together with chains, so that he couldn't run.

They dragged him to his feet and pushed him out the door, with the old man leading the way. Seifer tried twice to break free of his captives, but restrained as he was, he could only manage tiny, pathetic hops. On his second attempt, he only got two steps away before he was tackled and recaptured. Frustrated, he decided to preserve what was left of his dignity and go quietly to his fate.

At the Garden's front gate, Seifer was passed off from the students at G-Garden to the soldiers stationed at D-District. A bored-looking officer in a dull red uniform stood in the Garden and held a clipboard. He confirmed the successful transfer of the prisoner by relaying a few messages into a hand-held radio and then jerked his thumb towards a cluster of G-Army soldiers, who took Seifer from the students and surrounded him on all sides, gripping his arms tightly. The students retreated back into the Garden, while Seifer and the soldiers went outside into the blazing furnace known as the Galbadian desert.

The three screw-shaped towers that formed the body of D-District prison were buried underground at the time of the transfer, so Seifer could only see three squat military bunkers arranged in a perfect equilateral triangle. The heat was unbearable. It poured down from the sun, almost with a physical weight. What didn't hit him on the way down bounced up off the sand and burned Seifer from below, cooking him from all directions.

The soldiers shuffled Seifer towards one of the three bunkers, which they referred to as "Tower B." Seifer was very careful to remember every detail, including the name of the tower in which he'd be locked, for when he made his escape. He continued to listen and look, absorbing and memorizing everything as the soldiers unlocked a dusty metal door with a keycard and brought him inside.

Years of experience had taught him to expect a rush of cool air when entering into a building from the hot outdoors, but climate control was apparently not a priority at the prison. The air was every bit as intense inside as outside, but instead of having the oppressive sun beating down on him, Seifer had to contend with stale, humid air stinking with decades of human sweat and filth.

He could feel a strange disconnecting sensation as he crossed into the influence of the anti-magic field that was the pride and joy of D-District Prison. As long as that field was up, Seifer knew, he would be unable to touch his magic or his summons. He ground his teeth.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust after the glare of the desert, and he was almost blind as the soldiers pushed him into a small elevator alongside five guards, including the officer with the clipboard. The soldiers made absolutely sure to keep at least two or three guns—not just pointed at Seifer—but physically digging into his skin at all times. He cursed and swore at them, but they ignored him and dug their weapons deeper into him whenever he protested.

The elevator stopped at an unknown floor and Seifer was pushed out. He managed to catch a glimpse of the massive, circular shaft that formed the center of the tower. For a moment he could see down the shaft to the bottom and he estimated himself to be roughly halfway down the tower. Which, as far as his escape plans were concerned, was the worst place for him. He was equidistant from both the top and bottom, so no matter if the prison was underground or aboveground, he would still have a long jaunt ahead of him if he wanted to get out.

The soldiers shoved him in a nearby cell, unbound his hands and feet, and then disappeared. The door slammed shut with a clang, locking him alone in the empty cell.

It was impossible to measure time in his windowless cell, but Seifer guessed that at least two or three days had passed since he had last seen anyone. In all that time, there were no guards. No mealtimes. Nobody coming to interrogate him. Absolutely nothing.

(What the hell are they tryin'a do?)

He assumed—when he first came to D-District—was that he was going to be tortured. Galbadia was not a nation that wasted a lot of its resources keeping people alive if it could find no practical use for them. If Seifer was in prison and not lying dead in an unmarked grave, it meant that one of the higher-ups in Deling City still felt that there was some value in Seifer's life. And the only thing that Seifer had that they could possibly want was information. Therefore, he reasoned that it was only a matter of time before a guard came to his cell and dragged him up to the interrogation room, to be strapped to a wall and electrocuted until he broke down and told them everything he knew.

So the whole of his first day in prison was spent bracing himself for torture, preparing his mind and body for the pain that was surely coming. It was a matter of pride for him, to remain unbroken regardless of what they did to him. Galbadia had the power to imprison him, lock him in a cell, take away his weapons, and reduce him to being almost an animal. But they could not change him. They could not alter the fundamental nature of his identity. He refused to help the Galbadians, even if it meant that he would be tortured or killed.

To prepare himself for what he saw as his inevitable date with the interrogation room, Seifer tried to imagine it in as much detail as he could. His memories of the room were still vivid from the time when he had captured Squall and Squall's friends and Seifer himself had tortured the arrogant little soldier boy SeeD. He remembered the smell of the electricity in the air, the crackling sound it made as it coursed through Squall's body. The way the SeeD's muscles tensed and seized. The desperate agony in Squall's eyes as even he—silent, stoic Squall—was forced to scream.

Seifer had a lifetime's experience with pain of all kinds and sorts. But he'd never been tortured before. He had no idea what it felt like to be rendered helpless before another person. To be in the mercy of someone who was determined to cause the greatest pain possible without actually killing him. And to apply this pain continuously until Seifer's mind snapped, until he would confess to anything in the world just to end the pain. The concept was new to him and therefore intriguing. He was curious to see what it felt like. To see how exactly he'd react.

(I know I can at least be a bigger man than Squall.)

He went over the scenario in his mind again and again, each time imagining it to be worse than the time before. He wanted to make it so that by the time they actually brought him up to the interrogation room and tortured him, he would be disappointed. He wanted the actual experience to be easier than the horrors his mind could conjure. If he could manage that, he would be invincible.

But no one ever came. Seifer had run through the torture scenario so many times in his head that he was almost excited for it. It was a new experience. A new challenge to accept. What would Galbadia do, if he never gave in? If, after endless, unendurable agony, Seifer still remained smug and defiant? He smiled, thinking of the panicked expressions on the guards' faces when they realized that Seifer Almasy was not a man who could be broken. Not by the stupid Galbadians. Not by anyone.

He stared at the opposite wall, his back and neck aching. At that point, he would have gone to the torture room gladly, if only for the chance to have something to do.

"Friggin' HELL!" he screamed in the empty cell. His voice bounced around in echoes, ringing off the metal walls and the solid steel door that kept him trapped inside. "DAMN IT ALL!"

He thumped the back of his head against the wall. Then did it again. He repeated this, again and again and again, slightly harder each time. If Galbadia wasn't going to torture him, then damn it, he would torture himself.

(I'm probably better at it than they are anyway.)

He leaned far forward and slammed the back of his head against the wall, hard enough to make his vision flash white for an instant. He savored the rush of pain that exploded in his skull, the feeling as the radiating heat of his injury spread from his head and down his neck. The pain gave him company for a few minutes, a companion to ease the boredom in the darkened cell.

But like everything else, the pain soon went away, leaving him with a warm, throbbing bump on the back of his head and a sense of frustration that was even larger than before. He considered hitting his head again, but decided against it. He became convinced that this was all some sort of cunning psychological torture, designed to break Seifer's will not with pain, but with utter, screaming boredom.

(Probably saves on electricity this way…)

If that was the case, he wasn't going to play into Galbadia's plans by allowing them to see that their scheme was working. He hugged his knees and drew them in tight against his chest. He'd taken off his coat and gloves shortly after arriving in the cell—the heat was far too intense to wear them. He pressed his slick forehead against his sticky arms and resolved to try to sleep. Sleep was the only way he could be absolutely sure that he wasn't serving the Galbadians in some way. Whatever their ultimate goal was, there was no way they could profit from his snoring body. Sleep, therefore, was his only available form of rebellion.

He dozed in and out of consciousness for some time. For how long, he couldn't possible say. Waking and sleeping were much the same in D-District Prison. At some point he opened his eyes to find that he'd fallen over on his side, with his muscular bicep propped under his head as a pillow. His painfully dry lips peeled and cracked when he tried to open his mouth, and he realized that he was thirsty.

Wishing for water, he slipped back into restless sleep.

He didn't hear when the door opened, nor did he hear the pair of footsteps enter his cell. But he felt the heavy toe of the guard's shoe when it drove into his stomach. He choked and gasped, clutching at his abdomen. His eyes snapped open into a glare of pure hatred, his eyes focusing on the face of a prison guard.

The man's jaw was so square it was almost pointed and his scowling face was shaded by a bushy brown moustache. He wore the black slacks and tight blue shirt of a prison guard. Seifer thought that was a good thing; the D-District guards were notorious for being idiots. D-District had a reputation for being one of the worst places to work in all of Galbadia, so only very desperate people ever applied for jobs as guards in the prison, resulting in the staff being indifferent or incompetent in many cases. Even the dumb soldiers in the G-Army were better trained and equipped than the average prison guard.

"Wake up," the guard said. "We got something for you to do."

(So… it's finally time…)

He struggled upright into a sitting position, trying to clear the sleep out of his head. But even the pain in his stomach and the thought of impending torture couldn't get his brain to focus. Everything was hazy and far away, as if only half of him had woken up, leaving the other half sound asleep. His eyes were dry and sticky and blinking was difficult. His clothes were damp with sweat.

"Now," the guard said, resting a hand on his hip. "Are you gonna be nice, or you gonna be trouble?"

Seifer looked up at the guard and glared at him some more.

The guard sighed. "You're gonna be trouble…" he said, half to himself.

He looked outside the cell and waved in another couple of guards, two burly men who looked like they measured their bench press weights in "Cars-Per-Repetition." One stood beside either of Seifer's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Determined to be as stubborn as possible, Seifer went limp in protest, forcing the guards to carry him along. The guards didn't seem to notice or care. They easily pulled him out of the cell, his feet dragging along the ground as they headed out into the central shaft.

The artificial light in the shaft was painfully bright, making Seifer squint. But, mercifully, the long, empty shaft produced the slightest breeze that brushed along his skin like a tender caress. He closed his eyes and savored the faint coolness. The guards pulled him up one flight of stairs, his feet bouncing painfully on each step, then another flight of steps, then another. Then they went out into the circular floor that surrounded the central shaft, heading for a specific cell. Once there, they stopped.

"Here's how it's gonna work," the mustachioed guard said in a bored tone. "If you get the sorceress to talk, you get food and water. How's that sound?"

(The sorceress?)

Seifer first thought of the undead girl, stretched out on the bench in the Galbadian detention center. He hadn't seen them remove her from G-Garden, but they could have done that any time after they brought Seifer down. Since she was basically dead, it was probably a simple matter to transfer her over. She wouldn't resist or anything, the way Seifer could.

"If you don't cooperate," the guard continued, "Or don't succeed, we go to Plan B. Care to guess what that is?"

Seifer smirked weakly. He mumbled, "Give up and lemme go home?"

The guard shook his head, neither angry nor amused. "Afraid that's not an option. Just make sure you stick with Plan A, alright? Now, straighten yourself up and look presentable. You're gonna be calling on a lady. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"No…" Seifer said. His smile broadened. "But _your_ mother did."

Still expressionless, the guard struck Seifer across the face with his baton.

"That ain't funny," the guard growled. "Barely even makes sense."

Seifer chuckled. "Your mother taught me manners. Don't you wanna hear what tricks Itaught her in return?"

Another stroke of the club turned Seifer's face to the other side. He continued smiling. He was having too much fun to feel the pain.

"Open the door," the guard said. A fourth guard that Seifer had not noticed moved to the door and slid a keycard through a card reader. The red light above the door changed to green, and the door slid open. The two burly guards heaved Seifer inside, where he collapsed in a heap, still grinning to himself.

"Remember Plan A," the guard said to him before the door slammed closed.

(Remember your mother...)

Still on the floor, Seifer opened his mouth and flexed his jaw, checking to see if anything was broken. He was sore and probably bruised like hell, but none of the damage seemed permanent, and he still had all his teeth in place. He crawled to his knees and looked into the cell.

At first he thought there had been some mistake and he'd been thrown in the wrong cell. He didn't see anyone inside but himself. But when his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw a young woman laying curled up in a ball, her small body tucked as deep into the corner as she could possible go. He couldn't see her face, but her blonde hair poked out through her folded arms, and he could see the edge of a stained red bandanna tied on her head.

(She's not the one from the Garden.)

Seifer sighed. He had hoped that if there were more sorceresses running loose in the world, that they'd at least be able to put up a decent fight Galbadia. This one, it seemed, had been captured without much trouble. She didn't have any major wounds, and aside from being rather dirty and sweaty, wasn't in terrible condition. He hoped that she had at least killed a platoon or two before getting caught. Otherwise she was just a waste of talent.

(If she's even still alive.)

"Hey," he said to the girl. "Hey, you."

She didn't answer. She didn't move.

Seifer went a still as possible, straining to hear if she was breathing. He heard only silence. He sighed again.

(Damn it.)

Apparently, they had sent him to interrogate a corpse after all. He shook his head. Galbadians were quite possibly the biggest idiots on the planet. Seifer figured the only reason that the G-Army had so much influence in the world was because there were so damn many soldiers. They won wars based on sheer numbers, rather than cunning or tactics.

(Looks like Plan A's already a bust.)

He got to his feet and crossed the room. He bent over and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying to push her arms back so he could see her face. He wondered if he'd recognize her.

She tensed up at his touch, curling into a tighter ball.

"Don't touch me," she said in a surprisingly deep voice.

He pulled his hand back and stood up. "So you're alive."

She didn't answer.

There was a part of him that told him to ignore the guard's commands and not bother speaking with the sorceress. He had no idea why they wanted her to talk, or why they wanted him to do it, but they must have had a reason. And if Galbadia had a reason to want something, then he was resolved to stand in the way of their progress.

But at the same time, he knew that if he could win the sorceress to his side and have her as an ally, his chances of escaping the prison alive increased dramatically.

(I gotta get her to come around.)

"I'm Seifer," he said. "Who are you?"

Still no response.

"Look…" he said. "I ain't thrilled to be here either. But if you wanna get out, you gotta talk to me. I know all about this hellhole and I can figure out a way outta here. But I need you to work with me."

She was silent. Seifer craned his neck to get a better angle on her face. Her eyes were closed, relaxed, as if she was sleeping. Seifer sneered in contempt.

(Don't ignore me!)

With his boot, he tapped her in the back, right where her kidneys were located. It wasn't a hard hit, but it touched a sensitive area, forcing her to yelp and twitch. In an instant, she rolled around and kicked Seifer in the side of the knee, making his leg buckle under him.

He grunted in pain and stumbled backwards, falling hard on the floor. He rubbed his knee, glaring at the sorceress. She sat up rubbing her kidney where he'd kicked her, glaring right back at him.

"Least ya still got some fight in ya…" Seifer said. He smiled. "I like that."

Instead of responding, she curled up in a ball again, with her back to Seifer. He rolled his eyes and growled.

"I'll kick you again," Seifer said. "Harder this time. Hard enough to make ya piss blood for a week."

He got no response. He clenched his teeth and considered standing up and knocking on the door to let the guards back in. Let the Galbadians struggle with her. Or torture her if they wanted. Whatever. He was done trying to talk to a wall.

But he decided against it. His experiences with Ultimecia had taught him the immense value of a sorceress, even one as stubborn as the one in the cell with him. Even if she wasn't fully on his side and working with him, just the sheer destruction she could cause would be enough for Seifer to escape in the wake of her fury.

"If you don't talk to me, you're gonna talk to them," Seifer said. "And they have a torture room."

He stared at her back. She showed no signs of listening to him at all.

"Ever been tortured before?" he asked with a sneer. "Ya scared? You should be. Saw one kid come through there, he was pissin' himself and cryin' after five minutes. He was out cold after ten. You? I don't think you'd last three minutes."

He watched her, but she didn't take the bait. She didn't defend herself, get angry, or hurl insults at him. She didn't do anything. If it weren't for the fact that she'd previously said, "Don't touch me," and then kicked him, Seifer would still be wondering if she was even alive or not.

"There's another sorceress here," Seifer said. He didn't know for sure if they'd brought the dead girl from G-Garden into the prison, but he figured it was safe to assume that they did. There wasn't much sense in leaving her in G-Garden after all. "They killed her, you know. Tortured to death. Lousy way to go, if ya ask me."

She didn't answer, and he sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times, trying to think of another tack, another way to approach the situation. Being friendly didn't work. Being threatening didn't work. He had one last idea to try, and then he was going to give up.

"You mighta heard of me," Seifer said. "I was the knight for Sorceress Ultime—er… Sorceress Edea. I was there when she killed Vinzer Deling. I know you must be pretty new to bein' a sorceress and all. I can't tell you what it's like, obviously. Ain't never been a girl, much less a sorceress. But I know more about it than most people. Edea told me a lot about the power. How to use it, what to look out for. I can help."

It was a risk, bringing up his past. If she was a sympathizer to Deling's regime, then mentioning that he was involved in the President's death would only shut her down even more. But alternatively, there was the possibility that she was one of the many, many people who hated the man and was glad to see his limp corpse hurled aside like a doll. Seifer figured he had even odds either way and really didn't have much left to lose at that point.

Several seconds of silence passed, and Seifer was just about to give up and call the guards when she spoke.

"Tell me," she said softly. She didn't move from her position.

(Well… it's a start.)

"What do you already know?" Seifer asked. "You know anything?"

She didn't answer.

"Fine," he said with a frustrated snarl. "You know that sorceresses don't die, right? Even if they're killed, they keep livin' on in like a half-life or somethin' until they pass on their powers to another person. I don't know what it feels like, but I figure bein' dead ain't any fun."

The sorceress didn't respond, so Seifer continued.

"Every sorceress has a specialty," Seifer said. "Edea was really good at changing stuff. Like, changing the state of matter, you know? She could walk through walls, turn statues into monsters. I take it you can't walk through walls, otherwise you'd be out of here already. Or maybe it's the anti-magic field keepin' you in here. Hell if I know."

He still hadn't managed to get a response from her, but he sensed that she was listening, so he pressed on.

"There was… this other sorceress I knew," he said. "She was good at time magic. She could even go back in time and change the future. She was probably the most powerful sorceress to ever live. You figure out what your specialty is yet?"

He didn't expect a response. He was about to go on rattling off his sorceress facts when her voice floated over to him.

"I can… make people do things," she said. "I can put ideas in their minds. Visions and stuff. It's how I…"

She stopped.

"How you what?" Seifer asked, but she didn't answer. He decided not to push the issue. He was just glad that she was finally talking to him. "Anyway, it sounds pretty useful. You could be popular if you figure out how to use that power right."

"I guess…" she said. "But I can't do it here."

"Anti-magic field," Seifer said. "D-District has a pretty strong one here. Gives this place its reputation."

"I know you," the sorceress said, abruptly. "I knew you right away."

Seifer raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"In Timber," she said. "You broke into the TV Station when Deling was making his speech announcing the new ambassador. You tried to kill him."

(She remembers that?)

Seifer scratched his neck. That wasn't his finest moment, and he was a little embarrassed that she chose to bring it up. "You saw that?"

"Everyone saw it," she said. She still kept her back to him, but now she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "It was broadcast around the world. They said you were executed."

Seifer scoffed. "And you believed them?"

She didn't respond.

"So you know me…" Seifer said. "But I still don't know you. What's your name?"

She hesitated, then said, "Don't you know?"

"I ain't been keepin' track of the news lately," Seifer said. He gestured at the prison walls around him. "You famous or somethin'?"

There was another long pause, then the sorceress said, "Ciel. I'm Ciel."

"Good to meet you," Seifer said formally. "Sorry I kicked you before."

"It's alright. It didn't really hurt," Ciel said.

Seifer frowned.

(It ain't like that was my hardest kick or anything.)

"So how'd you end up here?" Seifer asked. "Takes a lot to bring down a sorceress. Didn't think it was even possible to take a sorceress alive. 'Til now, anyway."

She didn't answer. Instead she asked, "What do they want to know?"

"Who, the Galbadians?" Seifer asked. She nodded, and he shrugged. "I dunno. I have no friggin idea what they're thinkin'. If they wanted you to talk, I thought they'd just torture you. Don't' see what the point of sendin' me in here is."

"I'm not afraid of pain," Ciel said.

"Good," Seifer said. "Neither am I. Now listen, I can figure out a way outta here, but I'm gonna need your help. I dunno what your story is, but if we're gonna escape, we need to work together. If we can get out of range of the anti-magic field, or get them to take it down, then we can—"

The door clanged open and the mustachioed guard stomped into the cell.

"That's enough," he said calmly. Seifer narrowed his eyes at the guard.

(The hell's that supposed to mean?)

But before his brain could process another thought, Ciel burst in action, uncoiled like a snake, and lunged towards the guard, driving a straight punch directly into his groin. The mustachioed guard, for the first time, showed an emotion, his face twisting into a whimpering mask of pain. He clutched himself, moaned, and dropped hard to the floor.

(Nice!)

As quickly as she'd gotten up, Ciel leapt over the fallen guard and fled from the cell. She was already gone from sight by the time Seifer's mind had caught up. Grinning to himself, Seifer got to his feet and followed after the sorceress, stepping over the guard and rushing out of the cell.

But out in the main prison shaft, the fight was already over. The two burly guards that had dragged Seifer up to Ciel's cell had caught the sorceress, each one holding one of her arms. She twisted and kicked, but she was a tiny teenager in the grip of a pair of bodybuilders, and didn't stand a chance without her magic. Despite her efforts, her legs couldn't reach either of the guards.

Seifer didn't hesitate. He leapt towards the nearest guard, balling his hand up, and with a furious shout, drove his fist into the man's jaw. But the days of dehydration, starvation, and inactivity had already taken a toll on Seifer. His strongest punch barely even turned the man's head. Seifer ducked and spun away to avoid a counterattack. The guard handed Ciel off to the other guard, who proceeded to wrap her arms in a crushing bear hug to hold her still while the other guard came after Seifer.

Seifer snarled and took a few steps back, trying to stay out of range of the burly guard's fists. No one had signaled an alarm yet, so there was still a chance to escape, if Seifer could take this guy down and turn it into a two-on-one situation with the other guard.

But in all the excitement, Seifer had forgotten about the fourth guard, the one who had used a keycard to enter Ciel's cell. Just as Seifer was about to make his move, he heard the sound of rushing air, and then his vision exploded into white stars and yellow streaks. He was on the metal floor with the burly guard pressing down on top of him before he even realized that he'd been struck in the back of a head with a baton.

His head wheeled, making his stomach clench with nausea as the burly guard hauled him to his feet and clasped his arms behind his back. The guard's hands were like iron manacles, digging painfully into Seifer's wrists.

(Damn it all.)

The mustachioed guard limped weakly out of Ciel's cell and stood, propped against the wall, surveying the situation. Ciel was hopelessly pinned by one massive guard and Seifer was dizzy and in the grasp of the other. The mustachioed guard shuffled over to Ciel, curled his lip in disgust, then drove his fist into her gut. The air rushed from her lungs and she gagged as she tried to double over in pain, but the guard behind her was holding too tightly for her move.

"Don't… do that… again," the mustachioed guard said, holding his groin gingerly with one hand.

"Bastards," Seifer muttered. He struggled in vain for a second, his vision still dancing with colors and shapes.

Above them, Seifer could hear the sounds of whirring machinery. After a few seconds, his dazed mind was able to process the noise and remember what it meant.

(The cell transport.)

To allow prisoners to be easily moved from one spot to another, there was a massive crane in the center of the shaft that raised and lowered an elevator, with a detachable cell for prisoner transport. The big steel box lowered itself from the upper levels and docked along the side of the circular walkway, only a couple steps from where Seifer was standing. The door to the transport opened, and Seifer's guard dragged him inside, never once releasing his grip on him. Ciel's guard did the same. The mustachioed guard leaned against the wall of Ciel's cell and waved the fourth guard onward, signaling that he wasn't going to follow. He continued to clutch his groin in one hand, breathing deeply through his mouth and wincing.

(Serves you right.)

The fourth guard stepped inside and the door to the transport closed. The cell jerked as it undocked from the walkway, then jerked again as it rose to the upper levels.

The crane lifted the transport pod as high as it would go, then stopped to dock at the top floor. The door opened, and the fourth guard—an inconspicuous man in dark sunglasses—guided the others out to a control room, then up a set of stairs and over into the interrogation room.

(So here we are…)

The room was nothing special. It was undecorated, as all the other rooms in the prison. It was longer than it was wide, with high walls and dim lighting. On the right hand side were a pair of cross-shaped indentations elevated above the ground. Chains dangled limply from the indentations. At the far side of the room was a small computer terminal, where guards could make adjustments to the electric current. Behind the terminal was an oversized metal lever in the wall, which turned the electricity on and off.

They were not alone in the room. Standing off to the side was another pair of prison guards as well as the undead sorceress that Seifer recognized from G-Garden. She sat on the floor, her eyes dull and lifeless. The two guards didn't even bother to restrain her or keep a hand on her.

(So they brought her in after all.)

Ciel's guard dragged her towards the undead sorceress, then held her still about five paces away. The two sorceresses locked their gazes for a moment, and the undead girl raised her hands entreatingly, as if begging for assistance. All the guards in the room snapped to attention. The two guards flanking the undead girl grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backwards, dragging her along the floor for several paces. Ciel's guard clutched her in a bear hug and spun her around, using his body as a physical shield to keep the two separated.

In that moment, it all became clear to Seifer.

(They're afraid.)

Like almost everyone else in the world, they knew of sorceresses only through myths and legends. They had no concrete facts, they did not know the abilities and limitations of a sorceress. For all they knew, a sorceress had access to unlimited power and could do anything at all. They could not even be sure if the anti-magic field would be enough to stop Ciel and the undead sorceress from killing them in an instant.

That's what Seifer was for. To test the waters. Would Ciel immediately kill him, or use some other tricks on him? Possess his mind and turn him into a puppet? They didn't know, so they had to run a test using him as the subject. When they found out that the sorceress could be spoken to—could be reasoned with—they intervened, bringing the sorceress up to the next phase of their experiment.

(So what now?)

The guard in sunglasses answered that question. He tightened his grip on Seifer, then shoved him roughly against the wall. Another guard approached and helped spread Seifer's arms apart and chain them into position in the cross-shaped indentation on the wall. A pulley hidden behind the wall yanked him up off the ground, letting his feet dangle freely. His shoulders hollered in pain. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, refusing to submit. After all, the torture hadn't even begun yet.

(They will never break me.)

The guards grabbed Seifer's kicking feet and held them against the wall, chaining them together below him. Then they stepped away, turning their attention to the pair of sorceresses.

"Here's how this's gonna work," the guard in sunglasses said to Ciel. "It's a simple test. You're gonna give your sorceress powers over to this sorceress over here. If you can do that, we'll let you go. Simple as that."

Seifer clenched his jaw. He had no idea if Ciel could pass her powers on to a sorceress who was already dead. But regardless, he couldn't allow them to make the attempt. Ciel and her sorceress powers were his best shot of escaping, and if she was turned back into just a regular girl, then his situation became rather bleak.

Thinking quickly, he said, "It won't work."

The guards all looked at him.

Summoning his trademark arrogant grin, Seifer opened his eyes and met the stare of the guard in sunglasses. "It won't work," Seifer said again. "Sorceresses can't trade powers with an anti-magic field activated."

(C'mon. Let's see just how dumb you really are.)

In truth, Seifer had almost no idea about the rules concerning the succession of sorceresses. Ultimecia had mentioned a few things to him during his time with her, but she had never bothered telling him the mechanics of how one sorceress exchanged her powers to another. But it seemed like a plausible bluff, and if the D-District guards were as dumb as rumor said they were, then he and Ciel were about to be free of this place pretty soon.

The guards exchanged confused glances. But the guard in sunglasses was apparently the brightest of the group and recognized the trap before the others did.

"Then we'll just have to zap you instead," he said. "Hit it."

One of the guards who was standing watch over the undead sorceress moved over to the switch on the wall and lifted it up casually, as if doing nothing more interesting than turning on a light.

(Here we go.)

Not only had Seifer never been tortured before, he'd never actually experienced a direct hit from electricity. SeeDs frequently used thunder magic in training, but never against each other, for fear of causing severe damage to one of the cadets. So despite Seifer's mental preparations, he was caught completely off guard by the agonizing reality of electrical torture.

It felt as though someone had slit both his wrists and then shoved burning, fist-sized coals under his skin, then pushed them past his elbows, down his shoulders, through his chest, down his legs, and then out of holes in his feet. His muscles convulsed uncontrollably, his skin burned, and his hairs stood on end. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was screaming through clenched teeth, his eyes bulging in his skull, but the immediate misery of the electricity drowned out all thoughts and considerations.

For a second, his mind dissociated from the pain, and he felt like he was floating above his body and looking down at his writhing, twitching body from a place of safety and comfort. Then the guard hit the switch again and the current stopped. Seifer was unable to hold his body up, and he fell limp in his restraints, his head falling down on his chest.

(That…)

(… That…)

(Was some…)

(Serious shit…)

But he'd survived it. The first blast of electricity was over, the surprise of the unknown was behind him. Now he knew what to expect for the next time and could prepare himself. He gritted his teeth and gathered all his willpower, bracing himself for the next barrage of electricity.

Before the guards could unleash it, Ciel's voice shouted, "Stop!"

The guards froze and looked at her.

"I'll do it," she said. "Or… I'll try anyway."

"… No…" Seifer wheezed. He tried to form more words, but he didn't even have the energy to hold his head up at the moment, let alone form a full argument. He was surprised at how exhausted he felt, how little his body responded to his commands.

The guard holding Ciel gripped her by the shoulders, giving her a little more slack—but still not enough room to try to make an escape—and then guided her towards the undead sorceress. Ciel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then reached out her hand for the other girl.

Sitting on the floor, the undead sorceress looked up weakly, then extended a trembling hand towards Ciel's. Seifer gritted his teeth as he watched. Whatever happened next probably would not help Seifer in any way. There was a small flash of light, and then the undead sorceress collapsed to the ground. With her energy now gone, she was nothing but a corpse, finally free of her post-mortem nightmare.

(What?)

Ciel raised a hand and concentrated on a nearby guard, clearly focusing her energy for a spell, but nothing happened. The guard in sunglasses stepped up to Ciel and struck her across the head. She twitched and went limp for a moment. She recovered quickly and glared daggers at the guard.

"Dumbass," the guard said. "You were supposed to give your power to her, not take her power!"

"…Why'd you do that…" Seifer managed to moan.

Ciel glanced at him, somewhat embarrassed that her plan had failed.

"I thought…" she said. "I thought that if I took another sorceress' powers, I'd be strong enough to cancel the anti-magic field."

Seifer shook his head and sighed.

(Worth a shot, I guess.)

"All right, new plan," the guard in sunglasses said. "Obviously this guy up here's a liar. He said you can't transfer sorceress powers in an anti-magic field. So let's pump him full of juice until he starts bein' honest."

Seifer took several quick breaths through his clenched teeth as the guard stepped towards the switch again.

(Bring it on!)

The guard hit the switch, and Seifer's world transformed into white agony.


End file.
